Yesternight
by Pastiche Pen
Summary: A trip to Mexico leaves Carlisle and Edward captured by Maria's coven. Edward wants to hate Jasper, the coven's lieutenant, but... emotions are not -his- talent. Slash. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Copyright Blah: _Twilight _does not belong to me-but rather Stephenie Meyer and her publishing peeps.

Summary: Newborn vampires are volatile and violent. Carlisle thought he could guide his newborn, but in the desert darkness, Edward finds a different path. Slash. Vampire-AU. Jasper/Edward.

**The only warning you will get**: This is _slash, e.g. _Jasper x Edward. Not the boy/girl canon bits. Very AU. There will be boy love, the non-platonic kind. Basically, this may be nothing more than an excuse to write testosterone-ignited fist fights, play with boy-angst, scribble ridiculous amounts of UST, and add gay subtext into every male/male relationship in the books.

THANK YOUs to Angstgoddess003 for pre-reading and Ellecc for beta'ing with her genius brain.

* * *

I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.

—Mark Twain

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward's new life began with the bang of a gun.

The sound unfroze him, but it was the explosion of _smell_ that unlocked his brain and made his muscles jerk him upright. It was smell that put a spring in his knees and made his arms flare back. For as clear as the details were—the iron slug splitting the hide, the bayed cry from the beast, and the rival predator at the tree line—Edward's mind cast them aside as specks of dust. Edward only knew smell.

When he pulled away from the wound, the liquid spilling down his chin, Edward could only stare. He stared, and his mind tried to process this... whatever it was? A dead cow. A red stain on his shirt. But he couldn't put it all together. There was only the burn in his throat and the strange interference of...

_He accepted the cow. He'll be all right. Just another minute..._

Edward spun on his heel and stared in the direction of the voice. "It's _you_," he gasped, for he recognized this man. His golden eyes and hair. His white jacket with white buttons.

"_Carlisle_, Edward. I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Do you remember me?"

The hospital. His mother. His father. The dead. The cool hand of Dr. Cullen on his forehead. _Too cool_. Edward could see that now. Make sense of it. The luminescent cast to the doctor's skin and the sharp shift of his reflexes left Edward without any doubt. For Dr. Cullen was not a man. He had never been. Edward started to back up, crouching low. He eyed the forest to the left. He could make a run for it.

"You're in no danger, Edward." Dr. Cullen's voice was intent on soothing him. "I want to help you. You'll need my help." _Please don't run._

"What are you?" Edward demanded, not releasing his tensed crouch.

"I'm a vampire, Edward."

"A _vampire_?"

"Like you. You're a vampire, too."

Edward's jaw gave out, and his mouth fell open. "Then, I'm dead." But he wasn't. He wasn't dead or alive. He was some other weird cow-drinking monster. Like Dr. Cullen, who— "_You_?" he asked with implication.

_I'm so sorry_. Carlisle's eyes were so sad. "Yes, you were dying. Your mother asked me to save you. I honored her request."

His mother... Her face ghosted through his mind—a shadow, hard to delineate, even as he knew he'd looked into her eyes and held her hand in his just days ago, and yet the emotion he felt when he latched onto that memory, that part was clear.

Grief.

Recognizing what he was feeling, Edward slumped to his knees, eyes squeezing shut as he fingers caught chunks of grass. "She's dead, too. Isn't she?" he croaked, half-expecting tears even though he could feel no drops forming.

He didn't have to open his eyes to hear Carlisle nod. _She is, Edward. I'm so sorry._

_"_I think I miss her," he whispered.

Carlisle was quiet for a long moment but then in a soft voice he insisted, "Don't let that go."

They did not move or speak again for hours.

(o)(◌)(o)

Outside the window, the forest was snow-covered, the pine trees all deflated like worn out petticoats as they slumped beneath the frost. Edward was trying to read Dickens but the over-defined lines of ink kept slipping away. He was distracted, whether from the rumbling of an avalanche higher up the mountain or by the uneven pattern of an overhead flock of geese. Edward was more than a little relieved when he heard Carlisle opening the cabin's front door.

"Edward, I'd like to talk to you about something," Carlisle announced as he walked into the library a moment later.

Edward lowered his book from his nose. "A trip?"

Carlisle paused, startled, before giving his head a quick shake, _Of course he would know_. "Yes, a trip. I just got the post, and we've been invited by an old friend of mine to visit his coven in Monterrey, Mexico. It's been an age since I've seen him, and I thought it might be—"

Edward dropped his book on the window sill. It made an impolite _thump_ as it hit the wood planks.

Carlisle took a step forward, arm extended, as if to catch the book.

But Edward took a step back. "You don't have to do this."

"I—it's only an invitation. We don't have to go. Not if you don't want to."

"I didn't say whether or not I wanted to go."

"Do you?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"We'll go if you want to."

Edward shrugged. He was making this worse, but he didn't know how to make it better. He could see how much he was affecting Carlisle. With his reticence. His silence. He looked Carlisle in the eyes. "I know you worry about me, but I wish you wouldn't. You do too much for me as it is."

"No, I don't. I do so little." Carlisle's hand caught Edward's wrist. "I can't hear your thoughts as you can mine, but I know you're lonely here."

In a gentle manner, Edward pulled his wrist out of Carlisle's grasp. His eyes did not meet Carlisle's when he reiterated, "I meant it when I said you shouldn't worry."

Carlisle sighed, his empty hand squeezing into a fist. "If I go, will you come?" His voice was a touch hard, but not because of anger. Predictable. Edward's act of withdrawing his wrist had hurt Carlisle—again—even when Edward had not meant to, although Carlisle _knew_ that Edward did not liked to be touched—so he didn't see why Carlisle kept doing it. Edward pressed his lips together and then glanced up, meeting Carlisle's gaze. Carlisle's eyes were always so honest.

Edward knew there was only one way he could answer the question. He gave a single nod.

Carlisle smiled in return, and Edward felt, _heard_ that he wanted to grab Edward's hand again, but he didn't. Carlisle crossed his arms across his chest as if he'd meant to do it, and then he headed for the door.

"Carlisle," Edward called after him.

"Edward?"

"The trip will be..." Edward made himself smile. "The trip will help."

Carlisle smiled a genuine smile back at him, and then Edward heard the uptake in his thoughts as he alighted down the steps.

Edward, however, frowned—for _yes_, he was indeed lonely, but...

Edward bent down to pick his book off the floor, brushing dust off the cover. Then he returned it to its slot on the shelf.

...it was just that Carlisle was lonely, too.

(o)(◌)(o)

The best part about their great journey south was that they ran. They ran, and the world melted at their sides like ink in water. Edward loved it. He would laugh as they scared birds out of trees or sent ant hills powdering in their wakes.

But Edward hated when they would stop.

Carlisle would go into some nearby town to get supplies, catch the local rumors, and pick up a newspaper, while Edward would have to sit on his hands and wait. Yes, Edward had books. Yes, he even had a deck of cards—but it didn't matter. For no matter what he did, there were always the wafting smells of humans from town. He'd try to ignore it, but then the burn in his throat would—

He'd have to repeat _no, no, no_—

His fingers would search the earth until they found roots to hold, and then he'd grip and the wood and cellulose would groan and splinter—

Edward _really _hated it.

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward did not like Carlisle's friend.

Amílcar de los Reyes was a loud man, and he had red eyes. He bellowed an "Ah hah!" when he met Edward, clasping both of his shoulders and smacking stinging venom kisses on each of his cheeks. Seeing Edward's expression at the greeting, the man gave another bellowed laugh, turning to Carlisle and saying, "Your young protégé isn't up to speed on European manners, is he?"

"He's seventeen and a newborn" _who doesn't like to be touched—much less slobbered on_, Carlisle said.

"But he's always going to be seventeen, so time to get up on the times, eh?" Amílcar knocked Edward's shoulder.

Edward gave the man a thin smile and stepped back—out of range—which made Amílcar laugh all the more. Then Amílcar turned back to Carlisle, smiling as he held up a newspaper. "So about this war... A bloody mess, no?"

Carlisle groaned, even as he sat himself on a stool. "Such a waste, though I do think it will end soon, now that the Americans have their engine running."

"They're sending 10,000 boys a day, and they're dying as quickly," Amílcar muttered, but then he grinned at Carlisle. "Such a waste, isn't it? Those sweet faced—"

"Amílcar," Carlisle warned. _Edward doesn't need to hear about—_but then Carlisle suppressed his own thoughts. "How are things around here?"

Amílcar's smile dropped. "Not good. We have our own battles here, _claro_. The South," he scoffed and rolled his shoulders. "Monterrey's been quiet for years, except now there's this new coven—the usual. No real threat, but they've been waiting to make their move from the caverns. So far we've managed to ring off a few necks when—"

Carlisle let out an exasperated sigh. "Another topic, Amílcar?" His eyes flashed in Edward's direction.

It was too much for Edward. If Carlisle was going to censor every conversation, then there was no reason to stick around.

"I think I need to hunt, being a newborn and all," Edward said, rising from his seat.

"Alonso is on guard now, but Rene, Margarita, and Lupe will be back within the hour, if you wouldn't mind waiting..." Amílcar offered.

"No, I'd rather go on my own, thanks. If that's no bother?"

Amílcar smiled. "Normally, I would warn you to avoid the southern and eastern districts of the city—but since your diet is... _special, _I guess I should just wish you, 'good luck.'"

"Thank you," Edward said, and then he headed for the door.

"Be careful," Carlisle's worried voice followed him down the hall.

(o)(◌)(o)

As he walked across the dusty plain, Edward was thinking.

He'd decided that mind reading was like searching through books at the library. Like Carlisle, the man had a mind like a long series of hand-painted illuminated manuscripts. To understand a single thought from Carlisle, one would need to have read a few centuries back, decipher the elegant script, and weigh-in any more recent evolutions in his philosophy. Then again, most minds were unlike Carlisle's. Most minds were...

_Simpler_.

Like the man and woman in the carriage some way down the road ahead. They were having sex, and it was upsetting the horses. Or...

The breeze had changed. There was the possibility that it was _he _who was upsetting the horses—the threatening snap of his scent making them anxious. Well, he concluded, it was probably both him _and _the rocking of the interior coach.

The situation inside the interior of the carriage was rapidly deteriorating. The man had his breeches pushed mostly down his corpulent bottom, and the woman—his mistress Edward deduced (besides the lack of wedding ring on her finger, there was the fact that one did one's wife in a bed and ones mistress in any closet) was attempting to straddle him but was running into some troubles. Despite his remedial Spanish, Edward could tell that she was having some flexibility issues, and given the girth of the man's thighs and the shortness of his... er...

Edward wrinkled his nose.

The woman yelped and scooted back off the man's thighs. She was trying to get his pants off all the way, but between his perspiration making the fabric stick and his bulk hampering his movement—he lost his balance and crashed to the side, knocking the woman back into the opposite bench.

There was the thump of her head, and then the outside screech of the horses as they responded to the ruckus. The carriage team yanked at their reins. As the horse team was tied to the fence, the carriage only managed to roll five feet ahead—and yet, five feet was more than enough to send the man flying forward.

He landed on top of his already bruised mistress. Then there was the cursing, "_Puta estúpida! Cuál es tu problema?"_ ...as if it was somehow the woman's fault that all three hundred pounds of his weight were suffocating her breaths.

Edward left then, wondering why he hadn't left five minutes before.

(o)(◌)(o)

It was on his way back that he heard the first thoughts.

_No. No. No. Not now. — Move along the left hand side of the house. Maria will lead up the — one's at the window! — Evacuate now! — Nine newborns. Nine newborns. How is that even... — Duck before he — _

Edward heard Carlisle's thoughts amidst the swirl, worried yet braveand considering the others in the house before himself.

With a pang in his chest, Edward flew into a sprint.

The closer he got, the louder the noises became: breaking glass, the treble of snarls, and the ripping of granite flesh. The closer he got, the stronger the sting of spilled venom—and it was worst when he felt the first whiff of smoke—and the flutter of a twisted thought, _only the leaders remain…_

Edward was at the perimeter of Amílcar's plantation home when he met the first one. She leaped at him from the roof of a stone building.

Edward saw her intent—and he reacted. He flipped back, missing the clutch of her arms. But she pursued, jaws snapping over and over again, as if by keeping them going, she would eventually catch something in them. Her thoughts were— It dawned on Edward that he would have to _kill_ her. The realization sunk in with a slow stupor, so out of sync with the to-and-fro of their combat.

When her teeth arced toward his neck again, he made his move. He leaned with the curve of her attack before his heel swung back and his free leg kicked out, knocking her shin and throwing her back. Her head cracked against the adobe wall, bounced off with a cloud of red dust, and Edward caught her before she could right herself.

His teeth sunk into her neck, and it was horrible, because he saw the outline of her dark lashes as her face arched skyward in pain—and yet he still had to make himself brace her body, while he removed her head from it.

It was done. He cast a final glance at her face before he ran again. It was beautiful, except for the eyes. Eyes just like his. Just more red—and yet Carlisle's thoughts still screamed at him, so he ran his fingers over the female's face, sweeping the lids shut and shutting away the red. Edward ran toward the house.

Edward evaded another newborn at the stairwell, dodging and running past.

He could smell the smoke billowing from the back door. An older vampire tried to catch him in the upstairs hallway. A dark-haired female. She caught his wrist, but he caught her thigh—knocking her off balance and dodging her swipe, and then she was a snarling imprint in the wall, and he was rushing through the doorway of the master bedchamber.

He entered just in time to see Amílcar lose his head. A blond male caught his waist and spun him like a dosey-doe dance move, only the male's jaws were severing Amílcar's face from his body in the next second. The male dropped the head from his jaws and into a rocking chair, and Edward had a moment of shock as he watched the already familiar face nod back and forth with the sway of the chair.

But then the male aimed a lunge at Carlisle. Edward made to leap to his defense but had to dig in his heels as a newborn rushed in from a side room and sprang at him. Edward dropped to the floor and rolled, evading the crunch of the arms.

Across the room, the blond male collided with Carlisle, and while Carlisle ducked, the male was faster. Edward foresaw the moves, but he didn't understand them. Carlisle snapped at the male's wrist, and the male twisted midair, almost like he was stepping into a delicate pirouette. He was still mid-spin when he plowed his fist into Carlisle's back. The punch sent Carlisle flying across the room—toward the awaiting arms of the newborn.

It was a tactic, Edward saw. They had trained for this.

Edward crouched to leap to Carlisle's aid, but he was blocked. The blond male lunged at Edward. His white fingers aimed for Edward's waist but caught his shirttail instead. Edward used the miss to catch his attacker in the knee—but even that tactic didn't work, because the male rolled with his movement, absorbing the blow.

Edward was trying to follow the male's thoughts as he attacked Edward again—throwing a glass lamp at the same time he went for Edward's throat—but Edward couldn't keep ahead of them. Edward parried left as the male's knuckles over-sang Edward's shoulder. The male's thoughts were _shifted_—different somehow—and for some reason Edward was growing angrier than he could handle, and yet he was still fighting for his life—but then—

Edward kicked at the male's hip but missed, cracking a hole in the plaster wall instead. The male moved with a dip that swung him into the wall, changing tactics before Edward could adjust—and then there was the clamp of fingers under Edward's chin—and the press of a stone body, and—

"José, stop!" a female voice broke through the room.

Edward choked at the sensation of jaws frozen at his Adam's apple, sharp edges nicking against his skin.

"And Jasper," he heard the female voice praise the male who held him, "controlled as always. Good, because I want to keep him." She pointed at Edward.

However, Edward's eyes were locked on Carlisle's, who was trapped in the crushing grasp of a newborn—the way his ribs seemed to bend—Edward could smell his venom leaking. He was so close to breaking. Unable to stop himself, Edward snarled across the room.

But that only made Carlisle's eyes go wider, while the female laughed. She walked across the room, lips curled into a smile. "I'm Maria," she announced, "And you are...?"

Edward hissed at her.

She laughed again. "You're _talented_ is what you are. Getting past _me_ on the stairs—and only a newborn, let's just say that doesn't happen without some degree of supernatural enhancement."

Jasper—the male who held him—scoffed, and Edward felt the breath tingle across against his neck. Anger rising in him, Edward could see a silver scar just below Jasper's cheekbone. Even if it would mean his end, Edward wished he could add to that scar—sink his teeth into it—yet for Carlisle's sake, he made himself stay silent. Motionless.

"Well," Maria said, smirking at him, "we'd be willing to keep you, a talented newborn is such a prize—but as for that ole guy..." She gave a girlish laugh, covering her mouth.

"No!" Edward exclaimed. "Don't—do not hurt him."

"Oooh," Maria cooed. "The boy finally cooperates." She closed the distance between them then, standing before him. "So, what's your talent, _mi amor_?"

Edward took a breath, taking in the scents of the room. He could hear Carlisle's thoughts, an undercurrent of fear and self-reproach, but mostly a fit of conscious yelling at Edward to reveal nothing.

"I can read minds," he whispered.

Jasper's grip around him tightened, and Maria gasped, and her thoughts were… _racing._ Yet, she spoke with calm. "You'll be a good vampire, if Jasper lets you go, then? You'll stay around and play, yes?"

"Yes," Edward hissed.

Maria smiled wide, her teeth glistening. "Welcome to my coven, Edward," she sang, and then her eyes went to Jasper's. "Well, then, release him, _mi vida_."

"You'll behave?" Jasper whispered aside his ear.

Edward almost spit back a retort, but then he felt Jasper's intentions seep into his nerves. Inexplicably, Edward's muscles relaxed, and despite the teeth at his throat, he was filled with a heady sense of ease. "I'll behave," Edward said, even as he wondered what the hell was going on.

Jasper's teeth left his neck.

(o)(◌)(o)


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer_: I claim nothing of any market share value. I would like a hug, though. (Doesn't Stephenie look huggable?)

Um, once again, I've only had nice people so far-but if reading about boys giving boys funny, non-heterosexual looks (i.e., SLASH) upsets you, then the exit is to your left, darlings.

So, lubbs again to Angstgoddess003 for pre-reading and Ellecc for giving my pronoun/participle/comma swamp a proper beta bath. It's shiny now!

* * *

(o)(◌)(o)

Chapter Two:

"They saw me, those reckless seekers of beauty, and in a night I was famous."

—Lillie Langtry

(o)(◌)(o)

No sooner had Jasper relaxed his grip on Edward's shoulders, than he lunged. Edward reached out to stop him—for Jasper's trajectory aimed at Carlisle—but then Edward caught the focus of his thoughts. Not Carlisle. A ploy. Jasper was taking out the other newborn.

Just ten feet away, Edward saw the newborn's eyes go wide at the same time that his thoughts scrambled. Edward closed his own eyes, but even still, he could not hide from the screech of stone, much less the hollow thud as the skull hit the wall. Edward saw it all like flashes of mirrors, reflecting off the minds around him.

When Edward opened his eyes, he first saw Maria, whose thin smile did not match the torrent festering in her thoughts. "Care to explain?" she growled at Jasper.

"Well, now, do I have to?" Jasper gave her an exasperated stare before shaking his head and leaning down to scoop up the skull. He held it aloft, and even as Edward knew what he was about to do, he was still beyond belief when Jasper grabbed the newborn's jaw and started moving it up and down as he pantomimed, "My—name is—José Gustavo"—the skull's teeth gave uneven clicks as Jasper maneuvered the jaw—"and I have—a big—fucking—mouth." Meanwhile, Jasper flicked his eyes in Edward's direction. _He's a better weapon if he's kept a secret._

Maria stared back, not remotely surprised. Her anger was quelling even as her lips twisted into a pout. "But I _liked _that one."

"Rinky-fucking-dink," came Jasper's reply, and then he turned back to Edward. "Who else caught your announcement?"

Edward started at the implication behind Jasper's words. If Edward told, it would mean more deaths... Regardless, Edward's mind was already searching as part of his natural panic. There was a mind. Just one. Down the hall. Jasper didn't even ask. He was tracking Edward's focus with whatever supernatural ability he possessed, and then he was out the door. There was the sound of a yelp, followed by a clatter, and then the sounds of feet stomping and also... a body dragging across tiles.

It was easier to see through the eyes of Jasper's victim. Jasper looked annoyed and exasperated, and confusingly, the "victim" appeared unafraid. Jasper flung open the chamber door with a sigh, announcing, "Peter. Just figures."

Peter, slumped as he was under Jasper's grip, waved.

Edward did not wave back, but rather gazed at the discombobulating vampire before him. Peter's dark hair was short and choppy—sprung out like a cactus. He wore twisted suspenders, a shirt of midnight color, and torn pantaloons patterned in a checkered mash of red and blue.

"No one else?" Maria asked.

Edward shook his head, keeping a watchful eye on Peter, who was watching him right back.

"So you're a m—" Peter started, but then cut off with an, "Ow!"

Jasper's heel was on his foot. "Please tell me you have at least one bunny lick of horse sense in that _shell_ you call a brain?"

"Was just making conversation..." Peter muttered, shrugging his shoulders out of Jasper's grip and standing. "And oh..." He turned to frown and peer at Carlisle. "This one. He needs some blood lickety split, I'd say. The newbies getcha, and you need your body's weight in unsaintly garnet lubrication to recoup your spit." He leaned in close, assessing Carlisle's skin. "Especially at his age."

"There's always that line of shanties at the plantation edge," Maria suggested. "Just grab one and—"

"No!" Edward interjected, stepping forward. "He won't drink humans. He can't... He's not..." He trailed off as the apoplectic thoughts of the three vampires seemed to collectively gasp inside his head. Edward gulped but continued. "Look at his eyes. They're gold. _We _don't drink humans."

All three fixed their eyes on the still figure of Carlisle, who gazed back with an expression that was neither reproachful nor challenging—simply blank. It was the pain, Edward realized. Carlisle spoke in spite of it. "There are cattle three miles west," he rasped. "They will suffice."

"Long horns, eh?" Jasper cocked a brow.

"I can take him. I know what he'll need," Edward offered.

But Maria caught his arm, clucking, "Nah, ah, ah, my dear one. Peter will go. This sounds like a good job for him."

Edward expected Peter to be offended at the obvious derision in her voice, but rather, he set about his task with no further words, merely marching over to Carlisle and hauling him upright.

"Be back by morning light," Maria ordered, and then she turned back to Edward. "He'll be fine—but you're going to come with us." Her hand gripped his elbow, sliding down until she was clutching his wrist. Jasper flanked him on his other side, and then they were off. Peter led Carlisle down the back hall while Maria pointed Edward toward the front steps. Edward's final look at Carlisle meant nothing, but the words "_Be safe"_ followed him as he sailed down the steps and out onto the lawn of the hacienda.

The lawn was far from empty. A bonfire roared and vampires flitted about among the firelight and shadows. Then, there were the dead. Edward tried to block out the smell, but it was impossible. It stank of venom and burning rock.

"There are two more upstairs that need disposing," Maria called to a pair of vampires feeding the heap.

They inclined their heads, appearing to give Maria and Jasper their full attention, but their thoughts were on Edward: _A play toy for Maria? _— _A new recruit. — If she's keeping him, that will mean... — He's handsome. — He won't last long, though. — None of them do. — Fun to watch. _

Edward made no reaction when Jasper caught his attention. _Ignore them,_ Jasper's thoughts insisted.

Edward gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders. He couldn't ignore them if he wanted to.

Jasper gave a sigh, closing his eyes, and...

Edward felt Jasper's thoughts go _slanted_ again, but then there was the...

_Calm. _The smell and flames no longer rankled.

He was being lead away from the odors and twisting flames. Away from the speculations of the bored newborns. Farther away from Carlisle.

It was only when the warm feeling pulled away that Edward realized how long he had been clinging to it. Acting on instinct, Edward edged toward Jasper, chasing the fleeting euphoria—that was, until he felt the cold snap of Jasper's thoughts: _Keep on straight._

That was when Edward realized what he was doing. Shaken, he put as wide of a distance between himself and Jasper as he could. He made himself focus on the running. On the fall of each foot. On the rhythm of his strides. Edward didn't know what else to do. This vampire had almost killed him not an hour ago, and not a minute ago, mysteriously soothed him. It was confusing and manipulative. Dangerous.

Edward didn't like it.

(o)(◌)(o)

By the time they reached the caverns, the wind had picked up. It whined along the spines of the cragged hills, whipping along the sun-bleached spires and skirting through shredded evergreen shrubs. Shrill and longing, it sang. Despite his smooth skin, the heaving blasts of wind had coated Edward's hair and clothes with silt and dust, so that when Maria finally skidded to a stop at the base of a dry creek, Edward's first act was to shake himself off.

Edward had anticipated that Maria and Jasper's coven would be found along the forested river bluffs or hidden in a valley cave, so he was surprised when they stopped short in what appeared to be the middle of a flood plain. Maria knelt, her eyes tracing the dents in the earth before her fingers sunk into the soil. She pulled up and a square shape of sandstone emerged and beneath it, a dark hole.

Without a word, Jasper took a step and dropped.

There was a splash, and through Jasper's mind, Edward could decipher the outlines of the chamber and tunnels and bubbles from a spring bubbling up from even deeper down.

"Going to keep the lady waiting?" Maria called, interrupting his scan.

Edward didn't answer her. He jumped in after Jasper.

When they broke the surface again, it was in a large, globe-like chamber. There was no light. None. If there was even a glimmer, his enhanced eyes would see, he knew. As if to prove himself wrong, Edward held his hand in front of his eyes, wiggling his fingers so as to verify. In front of him, Jasper sensed his apprehension. "Lights up ahead," he said, not bothering to slow his pace as he charged from rock to ledge.

The first flicker of lantern flame was from an upper tunnel. Jasper took two bracing lunges and jumped up toward it, using the adjoining wall to piston himself through a narrow gap in the rock.

Edward followed his example.

The light blinded him.

Edward blinked thrice, making his eyes adjust, before focusing on the scene before him. Two sets of eyes stared back—and then a third. Eyes from a disembodied head.

"That's Lucy." Maria pointed at it. "She and Nettie used to be fellow coven leaders with me when we first organized, but then…" She trailed off, her jaw hardening. "They betrayed us, much to their detriment. There wasn't much left of Nettie afterwards, but Lucy…" Maria walked forward, lifting up one of the head's long blond pigtails. "We decided to keep her happy smile around just as a reminder."

It was creepy, staring at the disembodied head. Focusing on it, Edward swore he could see a glimmer of…

"If you put fresh blood on her lips, she smiles," Jasper interjected, coming up alongside him.

Edward's jaw dropped. "That's..."

Jasper shrugged. _You get bored…even when—_

His thought cut off, but Edward caught the edge of intention to it. "What are you planning?" he asked. Why bring me this way? This isn't the normal way of getting here, is it?"

There was another wave of thoughts, from both Jasper and Maria—much of what he already knew: _They wanted to use him as a weapon. Humans dying. Aligning him with other newborns. Drinking blood. More humans. More control. They wanted him to—_Edward was about to pry more when Jasper sent another strange wave at him. Patience. Calm. Sedation?

He wasn't able to decipher it before Maria was pushing open a slab of stone, and Jasper was shoving him forward, and then there was end of the stale cabin air, and the onslaught of—

_No_.

But part of him screamed, _YES_.

Why hadn't he heard? Then he knew, for the thoughts—they had been so silent before—were asleep. He had been distracted. But now the lesser minds were awake, and the feeble bodies were shrinking away from him.

"You need to feed," he heard Maria saying. "Newborns are always thirsty."

But he didn't really listen.

He was taking stilted strides forward.

An old man. A young girl. Four feet apart. Their eyes were so wide, the pupils contracted into ink dots. He could see their terror. He could smell it—smell everything. To sight, these humans were foul, plastered with days old mud, and yet they smelled… It made him think of fruit hiding inside an ugly rind. To his parched throat, it was juicy flesh mocking him beneath cactus spines.

It was with the most wrong-headed logic that he chose the man.

He dropped to his knees and he yanked. He clutched the butter-soft body to his own. He ignored the screaming from inside and out. When his lips touched skin, he licked the neck to clear the spot of soot and grime, and when the path was clear of all but sweat, his teeth cut through.

The liquid dribbled and pooled into his mouth and around his tongue—and the second it hit his throat, he whimpered from the joy and pain of its perfection. His teeth sank so much deeper and his throat was pulling as much as his tongue and mouth—and the minds around him faded into a pulsing drumbeat.

He only started to notice the world outside when the heart stopped beating and his pulls began to bring in thinner and thinner streams.

When there was no more, Edward pulled back with a frustrated groan—because he wanted... _more_—he didn't want the taste to end—the _feeling_ to end—and his throat burned—and it didn't help that the girl was backed into a corner—that she was clenched in a ball with her eyes covered. She looked like a rabbit trying to hide.

It was the worst defense she could have made.

He lunged again. This time he slid her into his lap, pulling her by the hair so her neck was curved just so, and then he bit down.

Except this time, the thoughts—_no no no no no—_he could hear them—and it was harder to ignore. He didn't even mean to do it when he did it. He grabbed her hair in a cruel grip, and then he snapped her head back in a quick motion.

Her mind was silent, even as her heartbeat slowed. He had to press with his palm to pump the final liters of blood from her. When he was done, he removed his mouth—but he didn't remove her.

She was just there, in his lap. Not moving. Dead.

He had ... killed her. _Murdered_ her.

"He had both of them. I wasn't sure that he would. Then again, after drinking _livestock _for months as a newborn..."

"Edward," Jasper said, ignoring Maria, "you can put the body aside."

Edward gaped back at him before pushing the girl's body off himself. He did it with too much force—she smacked against the wall with a thud and series of cracking bones.

"He's upset with himself isn't he?" Maria asked with a frown on her face.

Edward was scuttling back and away from her—them.

Jasper followed him, crouching down. "Shhh, Edward," Jasper hummed, "you were just having dinner. It's what newborn vampires do."

Edward's back hit a wall. He contemplated trying to smash through it—but he was pretty sure he'd only hit more stone.

"He's upset?" Maria repeated gain.

Jasper wheeled around. "Get the fuck out."

Maria growled back at him, but when Jasper didn't back down—Edward felt another slashed wave of something pushing at her from Jasper—she huffed and marched out. When the distance taps of Maria's footsteps signaled her retreat, Jasper returned his attention to Edward. Lowering down onto his haunches before him, Jasper gave him an appraising look as well as an appraising scan. "So, let's figure this out. Worried what the old man's going to think?"

Edward glared back at him. There was silence for a long moment, before Edward snapped, "Stop whatever you're doing."

"Talking?" Jasper raised a brow, even as his thoughts were almost amused at Edward's demand.

Edward narrowed his eyes. "I can hear your thoughts. I can tell you're doing something."

"Oh?"

"Yes, '_oh'_," Edward mimicked with a withering look.

"How about this, then?" Jasper's thoughts twisted, and Edward saw flashes of victory: whooping glee, gluttonous satisfaction, clasped hands—and he felt…

He felt victorious, too. His hands felt light; his energy buzzed.

Then he saw the bodies in his peripheral vision, and the fleeting emotion whistled away.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, skirting away along the edge of the wall.

"I'm talented, too." Jasper grinned.

"Didn't notice."

"With your power, can't you tell?"

Edward paused. "You make me feel things. Your thoughts are wrong."

"Know how to give a fellow a compliment, don't you?" Jasper teased.

"Stop playing with me."

"I have natural charisma, that's all. Peter says 'I'm an oil-tongued, dear, old mother face." Jasper chuckled at the description.

Edward gawked at him—not knowing what to say—and not wanting to give in to Jasper's attempt to lighten the mood. He was pretty sure Jasper's talent was more than "natural charisma" or whatever... He narrowed his eyes at Jasper. "If you're naturally charismatic, shouldn't I like you?"

Jasper laughed.

Edward did not. "I don't want to kill-_people_."

Jasper waited a moment before responding, considering Edward's request, before asking a simple, "Why?"

"It's _wrong_."

"You mean immoral—by human standards—which, in case you haven't noticed, that drum in your chest is both empty and still. Why should human ethics apply to non-humans?"

"Carlisle has never killed a human."

"We're talking about _you_. You're not a human."

"Doesn't matter. They're humans to me, too."

"So?"

"So, they're not just 'prey.' We all used to be humans. Besides, I can…" And here, Edward trailed off again, eyes focused on the broken corpse of the girl.

Jasper followed the line of his gaze. "You don't like hearing their thoughts," he assessed.

"It's horrible."

"Ah."

There was a clip of sincere bitterness to Jasper's thoughts that Edward latched on to. "You feel it, too—when you kill them—don't you?"

"I'll ask you this question: if it weren't for English being your sire, would you be preaching on about this?"

"Carlisle's never killed a human."

"He killed you."

Edward ground his teeth. "He _saved _me."

Jasper shook his head, eyes locked on the ceiling. "If I've learned anything about this life, about being a vampire, it's this: English didn't save you."

Edward was ready to argue, to make some reply in defense of Carlisle, but then something broke in Jasper's mind. A knot unraveled, and Edward was hit with a sense of despair that made his throat catch, his limbs tense, and his eyes want to retract deep into their sockets. All from Jasper, like he—

But then Jasper was standing. He was moving forward. He was walking out of the chamber, and it was as if the cyclone of everything wrong with the world was twisting along after him. Edward leapt to his feet. "Jasper!" he called.

Jasper paused and turned, face expressionless again. "Don't worry about the bodies. We'll deal with them later. We have shit to do now, though." Jasper pointed through the chamber entrance. "The war party is back."

Edward heard the distant sounds of approach. "War party?" he asked in confusion.

"Yep, a party. We did just conquer Monterrey." Jasper's eyes went wide with his fake smile.

As they left, Edward felt Jasper's thoughts winding and unwinding until his mind seemed to wrestle itself into a new shape. Then the darkness from before was washed away, and Jasper's thoughts were centered on the events ahead, but now, Edward could tell the difference, based upon Jasper's earlier demonstration:

Jasper felt victory but without joy.

(o)(◌)(o)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Twilight is a far cry from Pasty Pie's.

TO **ELLECC** for beta'ing. There can never be enough serenades.

* * *

Chapter 3

(o)(◌)(o)

"Duty is ours; consequences are God's."

—Stonewall Jackson

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward was in hell.

Like a swarm of bats, the war party swooped into the room. They tramped in with venom stinking on their clothes, rusty clots in their hair, arms flailing as they pushed and smacked against each other. They filled the room with their snarls and whoops of victory.

"You saw what I did to the big dark one—?"

"Only two—I nabbed three!"

"_Three_?"

It made Edward mentally curl into a ball. It was too much. The noise. The disorder. Yet, the newborns were relentless with their one-upping and war talk. Some boasted to Maria, who patted their backs like toddlers. They mostly seemed to ignore Jasper, who sat sprawled in the corner, conducting the mood of the room.

Edward was half-contemplating making a run for it when a new vampire entered through the dip in the wall. A small female. She was striking, both pale in hair and complexion, and only made to seem more so by the burnt orange shade of her dress. _Like a doll_, Edward thought, but then the little female moved, and the garish dress caught the lantern light. It didn't reflect the warm glow, like Edward thought it would, but instead, absorbed the hottest part of inner flame, seeming to pulse with blue.

He knew it the moment she turned to look at him. She had surveyed the room with a playful dip of her head, pleased. Her red eyes smiled when they alighted upon Edward. _A new one! ...and his hair is a nice shade, fine nose, changed so young, very pretty, shining hair, tall... _

He wasn't sure her noticing him was a good thing at all... so he pretended not to notice her, turning instead to stare at the wall—only to jerk left when he heard the sharp turn in ferocious thought behind him.

A huge, thick-bearded vampire was lumbering toward him. Edward was under attack.

Edward barely managed to evade the bearded vampire's clawing swipe.

"Killed Ana," the bearded vampire growled, eyes flashing and arms spread wide to crush Edward. In the bearded vampire's mind, Edward saw the image of the female vampire he'd first fought outside of the house. He saw the bearded vampire standing over her ripped corpse and vowing vengeance.

Everything happened at once: Jasper leaped forward, grappling to pin back the bearded vampire's arms. Maria barked orders. The other newborns circled, cackling with anticipation, only to freeze when the little female strode into the circle.

Edward watched along with the rest of them as she slung her arm around the bearded vampire's neck, as if asking for a dance, and lifted herself, opening her mouth and drawing her head back as if to bite, but then not biting...

It was only when Edward opened his eyes that he realized that the little female had her lips pressed over the bearded vampire's. She was kissing him in a temper, licking at the bristles of his beard like a rabid child eating cake, and the bearded vampire was responding back in turn, his mind stupid with lust.

_Succubus, _Edward realized with a start. _She's a succubus._

No one looked surprised when the little female pulled back and smiled again. She stared at the bearded vampire's face with satisfaction and patted him on the cheek. For one so small, her voice was a husky alto. "Causing trouble again, you hoary toad? It was because of that annoying Ana, too. Now, that's silly." She shook her head. "So, no more of that. Go upstairs and get your din-din, and leave our baby brother be. I rounded up a six nice _vaqueros_, all of whom are waiting patient as cows chewing their cud at the old post stop. You each get one and a half. Remember, nice vampires _share_."

She gave the bearded vampire a turn and a push, and he stumbled forward, only to be jostled to the side as the other newborns surged past him, making for the cavern exit. With a final stupid glance at the little female, he followed after them.

Edward was still staring after his unexpected adversary when he felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see the small female staring up at him.

"Name?" she asked brightly.

"Edward." He kept his hands pressed to his sides. "And thank you."

"Guess my name."

"I don't know. No one told me," he answered truthfully.

"I'm Mildreth, but don't call me that. Call me Millie."

_More like a fucking curse from Custer,_ Jasper groused to himself, stepping back and leaning into the wall.

Maria, however, walked up behind Millie, and Edward failed to hide his surprise as she slid twin arms around Millie's waist, letting Millie lean back into her. The act was undeniably sensual—which made Edward snap a glance at Jasper. Edward had thought that he and Maria were...

But Jasper's thoughts were merely annoyed. This was normal.

"Millie, like Jasper, is special to us. Aren't you, _mi conejita_?" Maria giggled-whispered to her.

"Millie's good at bringing home the bacon—and 'helpful' with certain newborns," Jasper added, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm helpful with everyone, everything—except Jasper. He doesn't want to play with me." Millie pouted, puffing up her bottom lip and crossing both her arms and her legs.

"That's because your little power doesn't work on me, princess."

"But maybe I want your _big _power to work on me," Millie cajoled with a toothy smile before going back to her pout. "And Maria said it was okay, but no, no, no, you have to be all stuffy—which isn't fair when you think about all the fun games that you and I could come up with if you'd only just let me—"

"—be nice to Jasper, _conejita_," Maria said, still nuzzled against Millie.

"Well, if he won't play, then maybe..." She turned her attention to Edward, clapping her hands together. "He's soo pretty. I love his hair and his fingers. Plus..." She trailed off, before leaning towards Edward. "There's something _special_ about him, isn't there?"

Neither Maria nor Jasper answered her. Their thoughts were guarded—they didn't want Millie to know about him.

Edward expected Millie to pick up on it, but she was focused on Edward, which was equally worrying. She pulled on Maria's arms around her waist. "He's not really an infant, though, Maria... gone from a tadpole to a widdle-little frog." She curled out a finger playfully in Edward's direction while giving him a quick wink. "And you normally don't take the older kittens, so there has to be something special..."

Maria said, "He's useful," at the same time that Jasper muttered, "Leave it," while sending out a puff of... It was hard to make out. It felt like sedation.

Whatever Jasper did, Millie ignored it. "Well, if you're not going to tell how he's useful, maybe I'll find out on my own."

Before Edward had a chance to grasp her intentions, Millie had pushed out of Maria's embrace, and was crouching down and into his lap.

He caught her before she could—well, he caught her hips as she squatted halfway down on him, the ruffles of her dress tickling against his chin and her bare toes wiggling along his thighs. Edward was going to push her away. He was going to make his apologies to this—God, she looked to be fifteen at the most—when her thoughts latched on to his.

He couldn't see. Everything around him seemed to fade. He tried to distinguish sounds around him, the snaking whispers, but there were no words, just a low lullaby, one that was a shadowy, distant like soft light penetrating the many layers of a forest canopy. Then there was the smell; it made him bend forward, sniffing the trail of scent, tingling like hot herbs in his nostrils before blooming into heady sweetness: scents of roses and boxwood and ether. Edward felt his hands drop, felt silk hands cup his face, and shivered as fabric skimmed across his bent knees. He tensed and then relaxed as a gentle weight settled into his lap.

"So pretty," the lullaby cooed, and then there were eyes sparkling close to his, ice blue. Snowflakes. Diamonds. Moonshine. He felt soft lips press against the tip of his nose. Edward almost giggled. Who kissed a man's nose? But then he couldn't laugh. When the soft lips licked against his, he could only grab the small shoulders and drink. Swallow. Let his fingers find skin beneath the layers of film blue. "You taste good," the voice whispered above his lips, pulling away before returning to taste him again.

Edward was pretty sure he growled, pretty sure he yanked her face back with one hand, and grabbed her waist with the other, not caring if his fingers punched through the fabric of the skirt. His hand was guiding her hip, and she was rolling with it. She wasn't even kissing him anymore. He was kissing her, possibly eating her lips, and she was letting him, seemingly content to let him guide her, let him give her—

"Now, now, now..." tsked a different voice. Not the lullaby.

The sweetness evaporated. Noise returned with clangs and spikes of brass.

Edward realized with a start that he was slumped supine on the cavern floor. Jasper was holding up an extremely irritated-looking Millie by the armpits. Her bare feet dangled and kicked.

"It was just getting _fun_!" Millie cried, before turning to give Edward an appreciative scan. "And look at his hair! He's even prettier when he's all messy."

"Edward is off limits, darling." Maria reached out to brush Millie's cheek.

"I knew it!" Millie snapped, turning her chin away from Maria's hand. "There is something special about him. I know there is. Otherwise, you'd let me play with him—and Jasper, _stop that_."

"As you wish, ma'am," Jasper drawled satirically, and Edward felt a wave of something leave the room. _Distraction? Boredom?_ He wasn't sure. The room still seemed to be spinning.

"Millie," Maria soothed, "I need to speak to Edward alone. _Solo_."

Mille held open empty hands as if suddenly finding herself painfully bereft of all joy. "But what if he wants to _play _with me?"

Edward froze, at the same time that Jasper snorted and Maria frowned.

"I told you already. Now, I'm going to say it again. I need to speak with Edward _alone,_" Maria repeated.

"But I brought home dinner!" Millie pouted. Her bottom lip was jutting out in Edward's direction.

Maria spoke in a voice that sweet, yet brooked no argument. "You and Jasper are going to check on the newborns and make sure that they properly dispose of the _vaqueros_. Edward and I are going to go for a walk."

At her side, Jasper started—mentally. Physically, he didn't twitch, although after a moment his eyes flicked in Edward's direction. _Don't court trouble with her. You merely wind your way tighter in the web,_ he warned Edward.

Millie, meanwhile, had fisted her hands into either side of her skirt. With the regal air of the tiniest empress, she gave a mighty huff, flapping her skirt at the same time, and then she stomped out of the room, her bare feet cracking and shaking the cavern floor as she took her leave.

After giving Maria a sidelong look, Jasper followed after Millie.

Maria turned to Edward. "Come along."

(o)(◌)(o)

They took a different path, one that involved crawling on all fours through a porthole in the rock, until they emerged in a small room with a ladder. "Go on," Maria pointed, and Edward climbed up.

He smelled the cherry wood furniture, the boar hide rugs, and the ash from the fireplace before he saw them with his own eyes. The ladder led up into a cellar, and the stairs from the cellar led up into a parlor room. At the sight of the vista—the open hills that stretched out to the flat plains—Edward was tempted to charge out. To run. To get the hell away.

But no. He couldn't do that. He had to stay. Carlisle.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, not bothering to turn around.

Maria didn't answer but walked up behind him. He froze with at the direction of her thoughts, and managed to tense even tighter when he felt her fingers start to walk up his shoulder blade, her thumbs press along the back of his neck. She leaned in, like she was going to whisper, but she didn't speak. Instead, he heard her thoughts.

_Oooh, you want to leave, don't you? Throw your body out the window? Race down that hill? Run away from the big bad vampires?_

Edward jerked his shoulders, trying to throw her hands off, but they stayed put.

Maria just laughed, low and darkly. "Oh, that's all right. I don't blame you. This is all so new. This life." When he didn't respond, she continued, "And while I hope with all four chambers of my dead heart that you will like it here... I must confess that I don't like all that much seeing you as a prisoner here. That's not how we really run things. You see, I much prefer love over fear from my family." She hugged his shoulders, and Edward rolled his eyes. "This is why I wanted to—well..." _Edward, you can hear me? _

He shrugged and nodded.

_I want to make a deal with you. You don't have to take it—though I think it will be to your benefit, but I'd like you to listen. Will you listen?_

"…"

_It's a good deal._

"Fine."

_Ay, que bueno. Before I begin, could you do me the little favor of calling the coast clear? Make sure one of our kind isn't about? Inside or outside? Upstairs or down?_

Edward obeyed. As he reached out, he brushed aside the scattering of scorpions and hissed breaths of snakes sleeping in their dens. He ignored the creak of the boards beneath his feet and the tinkling of the wind chimes on the porch. He searched for words, for pieces of thoughts, for reactions and instinct—but there was nothing.

"All clear," he said, barely above a whisper.

_Excellent. Now I'm going to tell you some secrets. _She pressed her thumbs back into his shoulders, this time massaging them with some force. It felt odd at first, stone rubbing stone didn't make any sense, but then he felt a slow rumble through his body. He started to relax. _These secrets. They're just between you and me. You can't tell anyone. Not Jasper. Not Carlisle. Not any of the other newborns. Not Millie._

Edward closed his eyes and bobbed his head.

_We began, as a small coven—it was just three females, Jasper and me. We started small, moving from small town to big town, expanding our territory. We were very lucky for finding Jasper. With his talent, we were able to take on more and more newborns. We were quite successful._

"That's how you took down Amílcar's coven. He didn't know about Jasper, your newborns."

_He may have heard about Jasper, but Millie... She's a newer acquisition. With the two of them, we can manage a small hoard of newborns, keep them under control, train them, and expand._

"I don't care about territory—or your wars."

_I accept that you don't—for now. I'll accept that you might even lack a zeal for it in the future, but you need to understand that you won't be free until I have what I want._

"Well, what do you want?"

She leaned in again, and he trembled as her breath ghosted against his ear. "La Capital," she said aloud.

"Ah. The biggest territory."

_Yes, it's been out of my reach for—I mean, it's the dream and purpose of this coven. When you control La Capital, you control the country. The other covens can't ignore you. All of those people. The luxuries. The heart of the Americas is in La Capital._

"So what am I supposed to do?"

_You saw our little effigy of Lucy in the front room, si?"_

Edward nodded, feeling sick at the memory of the skull. The dead lips that could still smile.

_Lucy and Nettie were the other females with whom I began. At first, we were a content and happy family. Unfortunately..._

"You killed them."

_We do not take well to traitors in this __coven, and I fear, even as my heart quakes over the suspicion that we might have exactly that as it has come to my attention that during our last attack—someone—someone who was in the know—told Amílcar_ _about our little plans to take his territory from him. _

"But he didn't take the threat seriously."

_Because he was an idiot—you never underestimate your enemy. However, it has come to my attention that my adorable family might have a..._ She paused, searching for the word. _A leak—a spy._

"A spy?"

She slipped her finger under his chin, and pulled his face toward hers_. _She nodded more with her eyes than her head. _ It might be nothing—but it also might be something more, but we are on the verge of greatness. All of our enemies will be reeling from our sudden conquer of Monterrey—which makes it all the more vital that we sort this out as soon as possible._

"Fine then, who're the suspects?"

_There were only two members of my family who knew which city we were going to attack last night. We could have gone for any number of other railroad stops—but we went big. Jasper and Millie were the only two who knew..._

"But they're…"

_My lieutenants. My most trusted advisors. Mis vidas, I know._

"You want me to monitor their minds?"

_Yes, I do._

"Their thoughts are... It's hard to follow them. Their powers distort their thoughts patterns. I have a hard time interpreting what I'm hearing with them."

_Well, then you'll have to learn. Unless… you don't like my little deal?_

There was no reason not to agree. As long as he was careful, it would work out. He'd free himself and Carlisle, and they could leave the South and its wars.

"I _do_," Edward blurted. "I'll take the deal—but it might take some time. I've never been around so many minds before, and it's hard."

_Well, my lovely, you have two months. _

"Two months?"

_In two months, we go for the Capital. We strike while the iron is hot._ She stopped her massaging of his back, and her fingers slid down do the base of his back before dropping.

Edward shivered.

(o)(◌)(o)

As they neared the main cavern, Edward heard the first wisps of an argument going on.

Carlisle. Carlisle was in the middle of it.

Edward ran. He ducked through the opening to see Carlisle's trim figure standing at the opposite opening of the chamber. At Carlisle's side was Peter, and in Peter's arms was a human. Edward's nostrils flared at the new smell, but they found nothing. No thread of blood. Not new blood, anyway—but rather venom, and what was more was that it wasn't Peter's venom.

Carlisle's venom.

If Edward needed further proof, he only had to look up and see the change in Carlisle's eyes.

"_You_—" Edward started to accuse, only to clap his mouth shut. His own eyes were ruby red, any trace of soft rose was gone, and Carlisle was looking at him with a mixture of horror and sadness—and his thoughts... the self-guilt. The disappointment. Edward covered his eyes with his hands, wishing he could sink into the floor.

"Her name is Charlotte!" Peter broke the tension, lifting the body upwards like a toast. _And she's mine. All mine, and she's lovely and beautiful—and she's going to be the trimmest craft that ever cut through this swamp!_

"Peter—how did you manage to—you're not supposed to—" Maria started.

"You never forbade me." Peter grinned devilishly. _Nah-nah-nah-nuh-nah-nah._

"Because you always _failed_," Maria emphasized.

"Peter didn't do it," Edward said.

They all turned to look at him. Then, as if processing his words, they all turned to look at Carlisle. His eyes, the color of amber before, were now a soft scarlet.

"Well," Maria said, her voice rather cold, "how interesting. Now, Peter, take your little girlfriend to a safe shelf before the crew comes back and decides she makes a nice chew toy."

"_Bloody guacamole_, none of those varmints better even _try_."

Maria was unimpressed by Peter's fervor. "Don't get too attached, Peter. You know the rules. If she has a talent, we'll keep her beyond a year. No reason not to check, but if she doesn't..." Maria warned.

"She will!" Peter countered, tucking the body against him. With his buggy eyes and small, pointed nose, he reminded Edward of a marsupial.

"On with it. You need to take it out of here." Maria snapped her fingers in the air, waving him off.

Peter gritted savagely before spitting out a curse and heading for the door, Charlotte still clutched tight to his chest.

He disappeared into the dark at the same time that Jasper slipped back in. Jasper's blond hair hung in his eyes, and yet Edward knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the vampire was focusing on him, assessing his mood. Edward had the image of a snake testing the air with its tongue.

"Peter brought a..." Jasper started.

"I _know_," Maria groaned, and then she gave him a significant look. "The doctor helped." She glared at Carlisle.

"Interesting," Jasper said with a cool glance at Edward, and he sat down on the bench. Maria slid into the spot by his side, and then they were leaning in close, whispering into the other's ears.

Edward, if he'd wanted to, could have heard it all. If not through Jasper, then Maria—but he couldn't focus on them at the moment.

He was looking at Carlisle, who despite having healed wounds and a new set of clothes, looked devastated. Carlisle looked like he'd been through hell—and what was more, most of his pain seemed to be completely focused on Edward. It wasn't the death of Amílcar or the creation of a new newborn that was weighing on Carlisle. It was Edward. Edward's screaming-red eyes.

"Carlisle? Are you still hurt?" he whispered.

Carlisle shook his head. "I'm fine."

Edward scowled. "You're not in pain, but..." He tried to give Carlisle a meaningful look.

_I'm... _Carlisle took a breath, closed his eyes, and then began to speak his thoughts in a mental rush. _I'm sorry it's all my fault._

"No"—Edward shook his head—"It's not."

Carlisle talked on as if in a daze. _While it was never my intention, I knew there was a risk. This is the South, after all. _Carlisle clenched his fists. _If I hadn't pushed you, if we'd have stayed, our lives would never have taken this... course. _Edward shook his head, willing with his eyes that Carlisle would let this go. Maybe even smile.

From where she sat, Maria's gaze flicked in his direction—following his movements, watching Carlisle's reaction. Jasper, relaxed as he was against Maria's side, did not pay any attention.

Carlisle also didn't notice. He talked on. _You must know that I didn't plan on saving the girl, but she saw us—both Peter and me when we came into the barn—and Peter was going to kill her. They practice absolute vigilance for our kind's rules in these regions, but I convinced him that I could save her—in this way, to be like us. I never meant to—but I couldn't let her die either. Such a waste... _ Carlisle's shoulders shook.

Edward wanted to speak, but he couldn't. He couldn't say: _I'm going to get us out of this. I'm going to set us free. I'm going to end your worry. We'll get out of this southern maelstrom. We'll read books in a small library. I'll play the piano, and you'll come home smelling of blood and saved lives. I'm going to do this for us. I've got this._

But he didn't say any of that. He couldn't.

Instead, he reached out and picked up Carlisle's hand. He squeezed it between both of his.

Carlisle's eyes shot up to meet his. They were wide for a long second, staring into Edward's. They softened slowly, as Carlisle seemed to step by step accept that Edward really had taken his hand, that this token of affection wasn't breaking some rule. _Thank you_, Carlisle's thoughts seemed to smile at Edward.

Edward smiled back for a second but then looked down at the floor. He didn't want Carlisle to see his smile falter. There had been too much hope tinged in Carlisle's thoughts—and Edward didn't know what Carlisle was hoping for. He wasn't even sure Carlisle knew what Carlisle was hoping for.

(o)(◌)(o)

* * *

My tack on:_ Love Between Sexes_ by EFC. Go read it. Sexy, angsty, and such a wonderful Edward/Jasper piece. GUH.

Also, I made this fic a banner. http:/i417(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/pp252/Pastiche_Pen/yn(dot)jpg


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer_: Twilight no es mio.

Ellecc is a star. She beta'd this before running to hop on a plane. She's at comicon. If you're one of those fortunate schmucks who are there, or who conveniently live in LA, hug her for me, and buy her a Magic Hat #9.

Next chapter should be up next weekend. Lubbs to you all.

* * *

Chapter 4

"_Some single mind must be master, else there will be no agreement in anything."_

—Abraham Lincoln

"All right, _mi vampirito_, up and at 'em, as they say."

Edward looked up blearily to see Maria standing over him. When he didn't move upon seeing her, she clapped impatiently.

"I have a headache," he grumbled.

"You're a vampire, darling. Your head can't actually hurt. The pain's in-your-head, as they say."

"Exactly, it's in my _head_."

"Oooh, which head?" a voice sang, and Edward pressed deeper against the wall as Millie skipped into the room, tipping her head from side to side with a rambunctious smile curled across her face. She stopped all at once with her mouth forming an "o" shape. "I get it! It's because of his specialness. His talent is a _head _thing," she concluded.

"_Conejita_, you were supposed to be watching the newborns," Maria accused her.

"Oh, I left them in happy-happy," she said, and returned her focus to Edward. She looked as if she was going to speak to him, but then she halted, and Edward realized her attention had shifted. She was intent upon Carlisle. She looked at him but for a second before a dark glitter crept into her eyes, and she hopped right before their feet—causing both Edward and Carlisle to jump, except that she had angled herself to face Carlisle. "Why are your eyes that color? They aren't red."

"I don't drink humans," Carlisle answered. There was a touch of apprehension in his tone, and Edward could see that Carlisle was forcing himself to be calm.

"Ew." Millie wrinkled her nose. "But you're no weanling..." She gave him a sly smile.

"True, I am no newborn."

"New-boooyn," she mocked his pronunciation. "The accent! _English_! But not all that English, or how to say, it's _old English_, but not that old..." She was tapping her finger over her lips, contemplating Carlisle.

"Around Shakespeare's time."

"Ooh!" Millie gasped, a delighted smile on her face—and then she looked from Edward to Carlisle and back again. "You made him, didn't you?" She pointed at Edward.

"I turned him, yes," Carlisle said, giving her a careful nod.

Millie's eyes widened in delight. "Mmmhmmm. I like you very much. I like your voice, and you have such pretty, pretty yummy taste. Our little Edward tastes so good, doesn't he?" Carlisle had only a second to blink in shock, before Millie was on her knees, scooting toward Carlisle, her doll-like fingers sliding beneath his chin.

Her lips were a hair's breadth away when Jasper flew toward them, grabbing Millie by the hair and pulling her back, dragging her to the center of the room.

"Let me go!" she snarled, but Jasper squeezed her harder, turning her so that she was locked against him, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other holding her neck steady, despite her thrashing.

After a long moment, she stilled. "I hate it when you do that!" Millie snapped, trying to turn and bite at Jasper, who dodged her attempt like it was a bored habit.

"Well, stop trying to guzzle the mule out of every new unknown, and then maybe I won't have to," Jasper countered, yanking her back as she tried to escape him yet again.

"I only wanted a taste..." she pouted, staring longingly at Carlisle, as if he were a puppy she hadn't been allowed to pet.

Carlisle, meanwhile, was staring at Edward out of the corner of his eyes. _Succubus?_ he asked.

Edward nodded, and Carlisle swallowed, though his thoughts were... he was relieved in some ways. The girl "tasting" Edward. Edward's obvious fear of her. The pieces fit together.

"I'm sorry, darling, but we have work to do. Edward needs a bit of training," Maria said.

"I'll train him," Millie purred, trying to push out of Jasper's arms.

"Not that kind of training." Maria shook her head at Millie. "Battle-training. We need our pretty boy able to defend himself."

_But I like him vulnerable_... Millie's thoughts started, but then they cut off, like a drawbridge slammed closed, and she looked over at Carlisle again. "Are you training him, too?" She narrowed her eyes and playfully swirled her pinkie finger in Carlisle's direction.

"No," Jasper said, loosening his grip on her.

"I want him to read me a story. Will you read me a story?" she brightly asked Carlisle.

"Pardon, I..." Carlisle blinked. "A story?"

"I promise to behave. It's just that I never took the time to learn to read myself, but I have this book, and I want to know what it's about..." Her eyes were huge and pleading.

"Fine, take him, but _behave_," Maria emphasized.

Jasper let go, and Millie pranced forward, grabbing both of Carlisle's hands and pulling him up. "It's always seemed like a nice story. The cover is so pretty. It has some nice boys, and some nice girls, both in _beea_utiful gowns, which is why I kept it—and I made sure to get not a drop of blood on it when I took it, so it's not bad at all," she prattled without a breath between sentences, yanking Carlisle along behind her.

She was a step away from the chamber exit when she rounded about, turning toward Jasper. "I almost forgot."

"But you didn't," Jasper said, and Edward could feel bits of the twisting string of thoughts between them. She was still furious with Jasper—and Jasper knew it.

"You and I haven't sparred in a while." The girlish tone to Millie's voice was gone.

Jasper stiffened. "It's not worth it." He looked away.

"Oh, I don't know. I always seem to get something out of it."

Maria interrupted, "Millie, we're supposed to focus on Edward right now..."

But Millie ignored her, "I'll be back in an hour or so. You should be done by then." The girlish smile returned to her face, and she turned to Carlisle. "Follow me, then. It's up in the old house. We can even sit on my bed while we read!" And with a child-like air, she pulled a gaping Carlisle out of the chamber.

_You should have just let her._ Maria was giving Jasper a disapproving look.

"If you never tell her 'no,' she's going to forget the meaning of the word," Jasper said, and Edward felt that there was a deeper meaning to his words.

"Not now," Maria said in a flat tone, and then she spun on her heel to face Edward. "All right, _mi amor_, on your feet."

Edward didn't move. "What are we doing?"

"Training. Fighting. Taking the milquetoast out of your prep-school ass," Jasper said, taking long almost-human like steps toward Edward.

"I'm not weak."

"Then prove you're not just dog courage, and _get the fuck up_," Jasper commanded.

Maria sighed dramatically. "Testy, testy, Edward, and even with a full tummy and a mostly quiet little chamber. Why don't you be nice and cooperate with Jasper?" _Because you agreed to help me. Our little deal, remember? ...or are your headaches giving you short term memory loss?_

Edward narrowed his eyes at her before jumping to his feet.

Maria nodded encouragingly as he stood. "I think," she said after a moment, "I think that you're going to make my dear Jasper one hell of an annoying student."

"I'm not going to be anyone's—"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence, because before he could start another word, Jasper had tackled him.

"Talking's not getting you anywhere," Jasper whispered in his ear.

Edward elbowed him in the jaw.

Jasper caught his wrist.

They rolled across the room.

(o)(o)(o)

Jasper was beneath him, his chest to Edward's chest. Edward had his teeth against his neck. Maria was chuckling.

"So at this point," Jasper continued, "you might think you've won your fight. You're still a newborn, so you're a hell of a lot stronger than me. Plus, jaws to the neck, right? Normally, that's where we throw in the cards. Kiss our chips goodbye."

"Yeah..." Edward said, having to pull his mouth back far enough from Jasper's skin to answer. Edward understood the point of this. There were three crescent shaped scars on the skin beneath Edward's teeth. How the hell Jasper'd gotten away after three neck bites was...

"But—" Jasper said, and then Edward didn't believe the thought even as he heard it. He felt the shift of the leg, and he shifted to block, but Jasper's knee was chasing his _crotch_, and Edward flung himself away with a giant leap back.

"_But_ your opponent is going to be fighting until the death."

"That was a cheap shot!" Edward was still smarting from the assault upon his balls.

Jasper smirked. "One of many—and let me tell you, some fellas might hesitate, but the ladies will go straight for 'em."

Edward shuddered but nodded.

"On the floor. Again."

He was above Jasper again. He lowered his mouth, and focused on Jasper's thoughts, telling himself he was ready for anything.

Jasper sat still for a long while, but then, all appendages exploded. His neck jerked from Edward's teeth at the same time that his arms winged out and his left knee came up and his back arched. Edward caught the arms and legs, held his teeth against the neck, but the arch of Jasper's back sent them rolling.

They careened to the side of the room, smacking into the wall, and as Edward started to lose the grip on Jasper's left hand, he moved up, and he bit—

"Fuck!" Jasper yelped, and Edward paused in horror.

The dust was still clearing when Jasper started laughing. "Finally!" Jasper sighed, even as he pushed Edward away and rubbed at the small line on his neck. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you."

"Why would you...?" Edward began.

"Jasper apparently likes being a chew toy—for some," Maria grumbled, and they both looked over to the side of the room to see her standing with her arms crossed.

Edward tried to smile. He'd completely forgotten that she was there.

"He needed to get over his mental block. He cannot afford to hesitate in a battle setting." Jasper was frowning at Maria as he spoke. Maria was annoyed about Jasper having another scar, but Jasper didn't know that. Jasper was worried—Edward tried to tell, there were snippets of past newborns, other fights, but it wasn't clear.

When Maria didn't respond, Jasper pointed to the center of the room. "Again."

"But I just—"

"But I said _again_."

They returned to the position: Edward's teeth over Jasper's neck.

"Now, if you were facing a normal vampire, you'd have to worry about physical ploys. You'd have to worry about their strength versus yours as well as your speed, but if you're facing a vampire with a talent, well, all that flies out the window."

Edward tensed, waiting for a move from Jasper, but instead, he felt a creeping sense of... light-headedness.

He wanted to laugh. Giggle. Rub his nose against Jasper and snort.

But no. That was just Jasper. It was his talent. Edward could beat this.

"Funny," he muttered, not moving his teeth from Jasper's neck.

Jasper didn't answer, instead there was a new mix. A soporific push of heavy weight through Edward's body. His breaths slowed and his chest heaved, and he realized what he was feeling. The choking pain, it was too close. He was seeing his mother's frail face all over again. Her weary eyes, fogged against the white of the hospital bed. The brown grass of the graveyard. His own cold fingers.

No, he told himself again. It was just Jasper. Jasper. Jasper. He hadn't just awoken without a heartbeat. That was the shock of the past. It was Jasper fucking with him, trying to save himself from another dead, glistening scar.

It wasn't real. Edward kept his teeth against Jasper's neck even as they both shook.

The weight changed. It shifted from behind his eyes and in his chest, and began to creep down. Edward's fingers tingled against the smooth skin along Jasper's wrists, and Edward's mouth began to fill with venom. Beneath him, he felt the tension go out of Jasper's muscles. Jasper's back lowered back down to the floor. His breath came out into a light pant through Edward's hair, and lower down, Edward felt both of them start to stiffen—

At the realization, Edward swallowed down the venom that poured into his throat, and Jasper took that millisecond to nudge his jaw against Edward's, so that Edward's teeth were gone from Jasper's neck, and instead Jasper was pressing into him, his back arching once again, and Edward trembled as Jasper's lips slipped along his temple, pressed, and then Edward gasped, a gasp that sounded so loud, seeming to echo back into him.

Jasper took advantage of his parted lips. His lips mashed, half-fought to pry Edward's farther open , and he groaned when Edward tensed only to relax completely, opening up, letting Jasper glide in. The taste was a shock at first, not sweet like Edward had tasted from Millie but deep, complex and hot with spice. Jasper's tongue was rough, almost sandy. Edward knew he should be careful, but that didn't stop him from searching out the edges of Jasper's teeth.

Their bodies were perfectly aligned. Jasper's leaner body was shivering against his, and the _tension_. The press and press-back between their lower bodies was growing more deliberate. Edward grabbed Jasper's shoulders—held on for dear life—when Jasper rolled his hips up. They both groaned, pushing harder together, starting to rock against the dip in the floor.

Edward had a hand fisted in Jasper's hair and the other pulling on his hip, when Jasper bent to lick his neck.

He froze when he heard the clapping. Two sets of hands.

Even so, it was an even greater shock when the soft tongue disappeared from his neck, and he felt Jasper's teeth take its place. He heard Jasper practically yell at him through his thoughts: _Round over._

Edward moved his arms, tried to push Jasper away. It only half worked. His hands met Jasper's skin, and his actions floundered. One hand was grabbing, while the other was pushing, and he could still feel Jasper hard against him. He wanted—he didn't want—

It was Jasper that pushed them apart, made them tumble and flop in opposite directions.

Edward didn't look up, even though he could sense the thoughts from all sides of the room. He wanted to shut it all out. He'd just... with Jasper. Kissed him. Sucked on his face. He'd never even kissed a woman before—whatever the fuck had happened with Millie earlier _did not count_—and now he'd rolled around with a man. A vampire, but still, a vampire with a dick.

It was too much. All of it. Edward crossed his arms over his head and turned over onto his stomach, wanting to vomit, but feeling somehow even worse for all that he knew he couldn't.

"Lovelies, that was, eh..." Maria started to say, lips pressed in a line, as if she was torn between extreme approval and disapproval.

"Unfair!" Millie interjected. "Why does Jasper get to play with him and I don't?" She sounded genuinely upset.

"Training," Jasper said, glaring at Millie. Edward looked up for the first time. Jasper was sitting on the floor with his knees bent, his arms splayed black. His breathing was back to normal, but his hair was a mess. The color of his lips seemed brighter. "That's what you call training," Jasper said in another long breath. "Edward needs to know how to overcome vampires with other talents."

"I'd say it looks like he needs more practice." Millie smirked.

"Not today," Maria said, stepping forward, as if she could physically separate the two by standing between them. "Edward will need more blood, and then we'll give it another go."

Edward tensed at the words. The thought of another go was enough to make his head quake, but even more so because he'd finally seen Carlisle's profile on the far wall of the cavern chamber.

Carlisle was replaying the images of before in his head: _Edward's head thrown back. Jasper yanking up on his body, his mouth descending._

But then the image was changed_: Carlisle was holding Edward in his arms. There was the cut along his neck, and Carlisle swiped his finger through Edward's lips, wetting it, running the venom-coated finger along the curl of the wound, watching it seal shut. Edward's eyes fluttered open. He smiled at Carlisle._

Millie, however, brought his thoughts back to the three vampires directly in front of him. "As you like it," she said, sweeping past Maria, and Edward almost started to scoot back, but then he saw the direction of her thoughts. Jasper.

Jasper knew her intent as well as Edward did. Millie stuck her leg out, her toes dipped low, like she was testing the water in a pond. When she lunged at Jasper it was more of a self-projectile than a leap, and she shot toward him, her hands in whirl.

Jasper dropped to his knees and rolled to the side.

Edward was still picking himself off the floor, when he heard Maria hiss at him. "Back! Other side of the room! Now!" She pointed him toward Carlisle, at the same time that she herself was backing up.

Edward understood why. No sooner had Millie caught her balance than Jasper shot toward her, throwing his whole body at her—cracking her entire small frame into the wall. As the whole chamber quaked, Edward scrambled back until he reached Carlisle.

It was only once he was seated that he realized what was happening. Millie was trying to get a hold on Jasper while Jasper was trying to catch Millie when she least expected it. Jasper was trying to wear her down.

Jasper ripped a thick stalagmite from the wall. He shot it at Millie. It ricocheted off the wall, spraying shrapnel and dust across the chamber. Millie seemed to dodge it all. She was in no way as fast as Jasper, but she was on the offense. He was on the defense. She skipped toward him, her steps nimble and light as she blocked his dodged attempts to get past her. It was almost cute, like they were dancing a jig, but then Jasper lunged, trying to get around her.

She caught Jasper from behind by his hips, sliding her hands beneath his shirt until she had her hands on his stomach.

Edward jerked back against the wall. His fingernails cut into the stone floor as the force hit him. It was—_again_—Jasper's projection—but this time it wasn't just Jasper, it was Millie, too. The sweet harmony, the thick foggy haze. The raging sting of want curling down his spine. The undeniable erection visible through his trousers.

Carlisle, who had been sitting stoically aside him, snapped up Edward's hand. He pulled on Edward, and Edward slumped toward him, part of him wanting to sink into the feeling of another's skin against his own, of the nimble trailing of Carlisle's soft fingers, and the other part of him unable to take his attention off the scene before him, off Millie pushing Jasper forward, onto his hands and knees.

Millie had sunk down with him, pressing herself into him, when Jasper's retaliation came.

It began as a flash. There was a human female. _She smiles through the sun-forged lines on her face, cheerful despite the overcast of the day. Her hands are covered in dirt, and she brushes them off on her apron when she sees him. She asks, "Did you take the Walker Place up the street?" she asks in a pretty drawl. "I heard someone was letting the place." But she doesn't get to finish because he's got her pressed into the dirt. Her back is crushing the small mounds of pea plants she had shaped not a moment before. "Sir, I—what?" _

_She doesn't get another chance, because he's taking away her tension, melting away the hesitation, the fear. When he cuts the skin, he doesn't care as much. Her pain is doesn't breech his walls—but then there are shouts. He drinks faster. The woman writhes beneath him. She's still writhing when the door bangs open and the child races into the yard. He's four, five maybe. He halts when he sees Jasper. He can see the blood on Jasper's lips. He screams._

_Jasper has to kill him to stop the screaming, the tears, and the loss._

Edward felt it. He felt the screams along with Jasper. His mouth was open, and even though he was not screaming, he realized he was shaking. Carlisle held him, keeping him tucked tight against him. Carlisle was running his hand across Edward's cheek, whispering so low, "Shhh, it's okay. It's all right, Edward. Listen to my voice."

But Edward couldn't focus. Jasper had gone on to the next victim. And the victim after that.

Grief. Guilt. Fury. Gluttonous terror. Face after face. Blood taken after blood stolen.

In the center of the room, both Jasper and Millie seized with their tremors. Jasper had one hand wrapped around Millie's neck, but Millie's small hand was holding that same arm. Edward almost couldn't tell if she was keeping it there or trying to pull it away. Jasper's eyes were wild, more white than red, and Millie's teeth were gritted.

_A young woman. She's dressed like a whore. She is a whore. The barely-there lace trumpets her line-of work loud and clear. He and she, they're behind the saloon. She has the lace of her skirt hitched up on a round thigh. Maria is watching, farther down the alley. Jasper takes off his hat, places it carefully on a crusted pipe, and undoes himself as the whore waits. He doesn't need to see her smirk to know she has him in hand. When lifts her up against the bricks, she makes a fake croon, even though she hasn't any reason to, but then he pushes into her. The moment he feels her internal heat, he loses control. His teeth sink in, and his hips move. He drinks her even her tears fall, dripping dark trails of kohl from her eyes, to her cheeks, onto her dress, onto the wall. _

_When the blood starts to foul, he lets go of her neck, but she's still on him. She's dead, and he's still inside of her. He throws her body off him in revulsion._

Before Edward's eyes, it happened. One minute Millie was there, looking one good pull away from winning the tug-of-war, and then she was gone. She crashed into the wall—Jasper, a hair's breadth after her. There was a flash of white. Millie yelped, and Jasper backed away.

Millie was clutching a cut along her neck. She didn't say anything though. There was no girly rejoinder or childish taunt. Millie glared at Jasper with total hatred.

Jasper didn't say anything as Maria marched over to Millie and swept her up in her arms. "You shouldn't have nicked her," she accused.

"You should have made her stop," Jasper said, and his voice half broke as he finished the final word. "You—"

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Jasper closed his eyes. His eyes were closed the entire time he marched toward the exit, ducked beneath the crevice and disappeared.

Maria watched him go, even as she petted Millie, dropping kisses on her temple.

_Edward. _He jumped when he heard Maria mentally call him.

He was still in Carlisle's arms. Carlisle was holding him, mechanically rubbing Edward's shoulder. Carlisle was less affected by the fight, he was still affected. Edward could feel his sadness, his empathy, but also, Edward could distinguish Carlisle's slow push against the storm. His mind was soothing.

But Maria pressed on: _Go after Jasper. Talk to him. Listen to him. He's vulnerable right now. _Her thoughts were a mix of concern and intent, of monitoring Jasper to make sure he was okay, as well as focused on the deal she had made with Edward.

When Edward didn't move, she spoke aloud. "Edward," she hissed.

Edward threw an apologetic glance at a worried Carlisle, and then he pushed away from him, taking a long breath as righted himself.

He followed the trail of rage.

(o)(o)(o)

Knowing how to find Jasper was easy—like following a skunk was easy. Jasper's anguish was all-consuming and wild, not unlike a firecracker. It made Edward want to run in the other direction—flee to silence and sanctuary, but he told himself that sanctuary was for later, when he could leave with Carlisle safely, after he'd fulfilled his end of the bargain.

Edward knew it when he was near. The ceilings of the caverns lowered and lowered until Edward had to duck and then crawl on all fours. He had to weave among the slick columns of time-forged stone, push through silted pools. He made out Jasper's huddled figure at the same time that the ceiling suddenly rose, and as Edward stepped out, he realized he was in another, if deeper, chamber.

"Get the fuck away," Jasper said, not looking up.

Edward wanted to. Jasper was a mess of his relived memories, his anger with Maria, and his irritation with Edward. It was physically painful, and yet, Edward was supposed to bear this. He was supposed to witness Jasper's memories along with him. He had to decode them, find the truth, and spring the trap. That was why he made himself move even closer to Jasper, taking slow steps.

At the sound of his closing proximity, Jasper's head shot up, and his red eyes bore into Edward's. "She wanted you to come, didn't she? She's bought into that brat's charade, and so she sent you along Godspeed, a helpful stooge."

"I—" Edward started, but then no words came out. Trying to speak when Jasper was like this—it was next to impossible. Edward knew that vampires had advanced minds—but the fact that Jasper was even able to speak right now was beyond Edward. Edward couldn't think. Action was easier. He took the spot on the wall next to Jasper, taking long breaths, trying to focus on anything but the memories going through Jasper's mind.

They sat there. Edward lost track of time. It may have been minutes, days, or hours—but time wasn't really what mattered. Instead, they both swam in Jasper's dark benthos, neither of them able to find the surface above the press of memories. Countless nights of bloodletting sailed before shipwrecking in Edward's mind. Rage over unavoidable remorse seems to burn the victims' faces into the back of Edward's eyeballs. Edward's throat seared in agony even as his whole body trembled in phantom pain.

At some point, Edward felt the slight change in thought, and looked over to see Jasper's eyes on him.

"You can go," Jasper said, watching Edward through the filter of his eyelashes. "You're too affected by me, and I'm lassoing it right back. I get that it's not intentional—it's not making it better for either of us."

Edward nodded, but he didn't move. His voice sounded strange to himself when he asked, "So, others affect you, too? You don't just affect them?"

Jasper suspiciously narrowed his eyes, almost like he wanted to snap at Edward, but then he sighed, wincing as he rested his hands over his knees. "Yeah, otherwise, Mildreth wouldn't affect me as she does."

"Oh," Edward gulped, realizing he'd brought them right back to the topic they had been trying to avoid. "Well, what do you normally do?"

"Sparring Millie isn't what I would call run-of-the-mill."

"But it's happened before? You talked about it like it had."

"Well, what happened the last and first time we ever fought was that I _won_, and afterwards, Millie sucked the schlong off one of her favorite newborns while I stuck mine in Maria."

"Oh." Edward's mouth went dry of venom as the new images entered his brain.

Jasper unexpectedly laughed. "You're such a..." _fucking babe. _He shook his head. "But not for long. You have to get used to it down here. Otherwise you won't last. Body over mind and all."

"Body over mind?" Edward was trying to dispel the slinking shapes from his mind.

At his words, Jasper looked up at him, and his eyes were hard. "Like before, like how I beat you."

Edward looked away, not liking how the images in his head were connecting with the events of the afternoon. "Talent practice," he dismissed.

"Did you like it?" The question was spoken so innocently that Edward didn't have a chance to process its meaning before Jasper's face was before his own. He put a finger beneath Edward's chin. His thoughts were such a mess, so insistent, like they were hand-by-hand pulling a rope up a well.

"I didn't have a choice," Edward said, he tried to pull his face back, but Jasper just moved closer.

"Oh, but that's part of the 'talent' training. You do have a choice. That's the point. You just have to make the long journey to it."

"What are you doing?" Edward asked, even as he knew.

"We could fix this quickly," Jasper said, and he put a hand on Edward's side and squeezed gently. "We never finished what we started from before, and while I don't normally swing this way, it was all right, yeah?"

Edward shook his head. "I'm not—I've never—" The words to argue weren't forming. Edward was finding himself distracted by the perfect symmetry of Jasper's face, the unnaturally dark lashes beneath his eyes.

"Shhh," Jasper whispered, and then he pressed his lips against Edward's.

Edward gasped, because the feelings were stronger than even before, because the taste was there again, and while there was a touch of lust, what was more intense was the desperation, the need to drown, the sickening desire to choke on the chasm in his chest.

"It'll be quick," Jasper whispered as he pulled back to speak. "Then we can forget about it. Forget everything. We can go back up. You can smile at Carlisle, and I'll make acid comments about that manipulative little bitch, and Maria can wonder what happened, pretend like she has her fingers on every thread..." His fingers traced the edges of Edward's lips.

With every word Jasper spoke, the scent of his breath filtered into Edward's mouth, nose. Edward swallowed, licked his lips, and tried to cleanse the warm spice away, but his head was pounding from the temptation. When Jasper tried to withdraw his fingers from Edward's lips, Edward leaned down and sucked in Jasper's thumb. He ran his tongue along the ridges, closed his eyes, and taste.

Jasper pushed back even harder than Edward had pulled, so that they fell to the floor with a low rumble of stone. Edward's arms were spread out at his sides, as he angled up to meet Jasper's mouth. One of his hands gripped a stone loose on the floor but only ended up crushing it.

"Fuck, you f—better than I—" Jasper was murmuring into his mouth, but Edward cut him off by lightly biting at his tongue.

"Heyya—" Jasper hissed, but it was accompanied by a jerk of the hips. They both groaned, even though the contact was haphazard, but it was enough to forget to care about anything else.

They both scrambled. Jasper lifted up so Edward spread his legs wide, and then Jasper was scooting up on him, pushed up on his elbows with his breath beating down into the crook of Edward's shirt collar. Jasper grunted when Edward yanked him up, tighter, so that when Jasper moved, it hit—_there_—just like that. Then more and more, Jasper was pressing, scraping, up and down on Edward. Smashing him into the floor, scraping skin against fabric, and making Edward not fucking care about the floor or the ceiling or anything else.

Jasper had told Edward it would be fast. It was.

Edward came first, his whole body seeming to bend off the floor as Jasper swayed even faster above him.

It took Jasper longer. Edward watched his face, his teeth nipped over the top of his bottom lip. His eyes fading in and out with perspective. Edward monitored his mind with lazy bliss as it finally cleared of everything: anxiety, the past, all of the manacles of memory from before.

Edward sensed it before it began. He clung to Jasper as he gave a long cursing whine, burying his face into Edward's neck. They sat for a long moment, focused only on the distilled sensations.

But then Jasper looked up at him, eyes wide. There was a flash of memory. _Maria's back turning. Blood pooled on the floor. Edward. Edward's face as it was right now. _Jasper was focused on something in Edward's expression, something in his emotions—something that Edward didn't understand—and something that made Jasper back away, push off of Edward.

Edward watched him in confusion. Jasper's thoughts were a long negative. Edward didn't understand.

Jasper stood, brushing himself off, and looking anywhere but at Edward. "That was..."—he cringed—"maybe, necessary—but really fucking stupid." _And you said you weren't going to let her pull anymore strings—and look what you've done. _

Edward didn't know what to say. He could feel the shift in Jasper's mind, the change from vulnerable and open to clamped down and controlled, like he was systematically shutting everything, including Edward, out.

"Thank you and you have my apologies," Jasper stated, like he was apologizing for being late for tea.

Edward didn't know what he was feeling. He felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him. He felt the stickiness in his pants and the coating of Jasper's smell lingering over him, but he didn't know what any of that meant so he just looked at Jasper. Looked and looked, as if by seeing his eyes, Edward could sort out the mess of thought and emotion.

Jasper didn't look back. Edward watched as he wrapped his hand over his face, as he shut Edward out, and as he disappeared into the stretching tunnels.

* * *

If you love funny slashy pwp, go read Tuesday Midnight's _Raw and Rosy_. It makes me so happppy-and I normally find BDSM to be totally offputting, but HERS. I LOVE it. Go, go, get.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: No. Just no. Although I wish I had sharp teeth.

Snuggles to Ellecc for the beta.

* * *

"_The mob has many heads, but no brains."_

—Thomas Fuller

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward felt terrible. His throat was burning.

His throat was burning in part because he was hungry. It was a vampire attribute, he supposed. Stress made him hungry, and the past two nights with their... Edward tugged at his hair. He could not put it all into words, although there were so many words, so many meaningless, stupid words that passed as half-formed thoughts in his head.

At one point he had told himself it would have been better if Jasper had laughed at him. Maybe if he'd spit venom all over Edward's face and thrown him across the chamber. Edward was sure he could have handled that. Hate wasn't remotely confusing.

But this—how Edward felt now, well, it was confusing—and pathetic. Edward felt _hurt_. He couldn't sort out Jasper's indifference from his desire. The only fact about which Edward was certain was his own guileless stupidity, for it was now abundantly clear that Edward was exactly what Jasper had called him: a damned _babe_. Yes, even as a mind reader, no matter how many perverse visions he had heard in the minds of passersby over the past several months, he was still a silly innocent.

Carlisle was right. It was worth centuries of waiting never to feel like this—never to feel so sullied with shame and the soot of yesternight's sin.

It was supposed to be more. Edward knew that. He knew it because when his memories trespassed to the moments in the cavern depths, he felt the awful creeping of the childish emotion. Awe. Because Edward had _never_—with anyone—even as a human. The closest he'd ever come was the companionship of a torn-out page from his mother's _McCall__'s_, one with a red-lipped lady in a soft grey dress that had sent his imagination wild as his hand jerked the sheets.

But last night...

He couldn't stop thinking about it. He knew that the _sensation_ was different as a vampire, but he was also utterly certain that Jasper's power had amplified everything. Made it more intense. Made it harder to let go. The fact that Edward couldn't let go was what made him angry. His hand clutched his throat.

"You're clutching your throat..." Maria was sitting across from him, apparently content to point out the obvious.

She was the other reason his throat was burning. They were up in the house, in the parlor. Maria had brought him up for another one of her "talks," but they weren't talking. Maria was sprawled on the love seat opposite him, scraping at a thin trail of blood that seemed to have dried on her silver cuff. Each small scratch sent the quick flicks of scent in his direction. He should have stopped breathing, swallowed the venom, and looked away, but the small scritch-scratch of Maria's nail was a welcome distraction from the thundercloud in his head.

"It's icky dried blood, Edward, darling. You shouldn't look so ready to lap at it." She didn't stop scraping as she looked up at him with a teasing smile.

Edward ignored her, watching the slow curtain of night beginning to creep across the valleys.

"You're thirsty."

Ignoring her wasn't working, not with the scratching, so he turned from the window and glared in her direction.

Maria laughed. "That's fine. You can say so. Newborns are always hungry." She stopped her scraping. "We should get you fed. Training can be quite draining. At midnight, I think. You can go out with Jasper..."

Edward involuntarily tensed—and it didn't escape Maria's notice. "Oh, Edward, look at you, _como si tuviera un palo por el culo_. Why ever so addled?"

Edward didn't meet her eyes. He watched her fingers.

"Would you rather go with Millie?"

"I'd rather go with Carlisle. Permanently. I'd rather not drink humans."

"I don't know if I believe that latter part of that statement, but as for the first..."—she crossed her hands in her lap—"not until you've fulfilled our little bargain—which, by the way, how was our grumpy Jasper down in the bowels of the earth?"

Edward sighed, stretching out his legs. "He's fought her before. How do you think he was?"

"Oh, I think he was rather mad at me when I stayed behind with Millie, but you know..." She held her forearm up, her fingers stretched out wide, and then scraped at a spot of blood in the crease between her two fingers. "I think both you and Jasper took a little swim in the underground pools before you each came up—your clothes reek of gypsum and salt—and more importantly, while Jasper was quite irritable, he wasn't the ocean-sized sinkhole that one would expect." She gave him a coy smile. "For Jasper, he even looked _un poquito tranquilo._"

"I didn't get anything from him about spying."

"Oh, what did you get then?" Her voice came out almost as a purr.

"I said: _nothing._"

"Touchy. Touchy, but tell me, you didn't hear anything?"

Edward raised his eyes to meet hers. "It's a little difficult to hear the harmony when there's a horn blowing directly in your ear."

_My, my, how the little mind reader likes to engage in hyperbolic metaphors._

"I was not exaggerating. With Jasper and Millie, they're... I don't know how to describe it. I can hear their thoughts when it's all clear—but their talents make it difficult for me to hear my own thoughts half the time."

"What about my thoughts?" Maria asked. She was twisting a long strand of her hair, rolling the black ribbon between thumb and pointer finger.

"When they're in English, they're easy enough, I guess, not unlike Carlisle's, except that you're both older. Your thoughts are based on past references that I don't understand. So, yes and no."

"Interesting," she said, rising, buffing her knuckles on her sleeve cuff, and walking toward the doorway. "Now, let's get you something sweet, eh?" She opened the door.

Edward wished he could have said he hesitated, but his legs seem to bring him to her side of their own volition. His throat burned with a low sear. She grabbed his hand when he met her and marched ahead, pulling him along with her.

They went out through the front door, down the steep ravine, and hopped across the slope of a dried-up creek. She pulled him along until they saw rail lines come into view like long snake tracks dusted in the silt. The wind picked up, and sound fluttered in from the west. Voices. Human and soft. They were coming from a wooden shack just beyond the rail tracks. Edward closed his eyes and froze once he took in the smell, willing himself not to want, but—

"Go"—Maria pressed on his back—"take what you need. It'll be easier to focus when you're fed," she said, her voice following him.

He heard her words, but he didn't process them. The pulsing flow was thick in his mind, joy in his throat, and he cared for nothing else. When he made it to the door of the shack, he flung open the door and lunged for the first throat.

His mind was content to disappear in the taste.

(o)(o)(o)

Maria didn't drag Edward to training, but she did smack at his back when he slowed from a sprint to a light jog. Edward grew tenser and tenser with each step toward the training area. He told himself that if he was smart, he would act like nothing had ever happened. He would play it so smooth. Only he and Jasper would know—Maria could guess—but she really didn't know. Not really.

As they broached the threshold of the large cavern, Edward heard the first wisps, and then the slow slink of Jasper's slanted thoughts, mixed in with those of the coven's newborns. It made him want to dig in his heels and race in the opposite direction as fast as his legs would carry him.

When Edward saw him, Jasper's back was to Edward and he was standing in the center of the room, crouched low with one hand on the floor, the other behind his back. Facing him was the large bearded vampire, the one who had attacked him on his first day. Ciro, Edward had learned his name. Ciro had his arms spread wide, his fingers splayed. Two other newborns were lined up along the far wall.

"Wider stance," Jasper commanded. "Crouch lower—otherwise you'll have no spring."

"We'll see who has spring..." Ciro mocked, and he brought his hands together, cracking his knuckles.

"On the line. I said _crouch._"

"I am crouching."

"Oh, for the love of—" Jasper rolled his eyes, and then he lunged.

Edward's anxiety disappeared as he watched in fascination as Jasper attacked, and Ciro parried out of the way. Ciro was so huge—even taller than Jasper—and yet, Jasper was the one corralling him, left-right-left-right, as if looping around Ciro. With each loop, Jasper twisted, getting closer and closer. Ciro swiped at Jasper, his enormous hands reached out to grab at him, but Jasper evaded him.

After the last attempt, Ciro began treading backward, trying to gain the advantage of the wall, but then Jasper skidded to his side, knocked him in the knee, and before Edward could reconcile the steps of Jasper's maneuver, Ciro's face was planted into the stone patchwork of calcified soda straws. Jasper's foot was braced across the back of his neck.

Ciro was coughing, pushing against the floor. "I got one of those damn stone sticks up my nose," he wheezed, sniffling into the floor.

"What did I tell you about letting your opponent get behind you?"

Ciro hissed, and jerked his face to the side, one red eye glaring up at Jasper. "Why do you think I was backing for the wall?"

Jasper shook his head. "But that was your problem. You were more focused on the wall than you were on me."

"I was plenty focused on you—if you hadn't been distracting me with that bullshit hocus pocus—I'd have—"

"What?" Jasper drawled, "Lasted a half second longer?"

Ciro pushed Jasper off, wheeling around to say, "No, I would have—"

But Maria cut in. "Ciro. Ciro. Ciro," she clucked, "you need to learn to listen to your instructor, and not berate him so. Right now, you're _bien fuerte_, but in six months, your strength will start to fade, and Jasper's instruction will be all you have."

"It's not my fault he—"

"_—darling_. I won't repeat myself. Cooperation is to your benefit." Maria's voice was sweet, but the threat was evident. Edward saw the memory in Ciro's mind of a different newborn—one that had not obeyed. They'd torn him to pieces, shred by shred, and then they'd brought all the newborns outside to watch, to teach them about "cooperation."

"Fine," Ciro spat out, but not before casting a dark glance in Jasper's direction.

Jasper met the glare and didn't flinch.

"Although, I must say, Jasper." Maria's voice was teasing. "You seem to be projecting more than usual this fine day. Are you grumpy?"

Jasper's eyes flashed. "I don't know. I got into a fight with a succubus yesterday. Am I?"

Maria ignored his tone. "As you like it, but, it's Edward's turn now. He's been fed and all cleaned, and now he needs his lesson." She patted him on the back, grinning fondly at him.

Edward looked away.

"All right," Jasper agreed, keeping his eyes locked on Maria, "Edward, come into the center of the room, toes on the mark, and Ciro—get your two-keg ass back here. You're going to practice with Edward."

Ciro, who had been headed for the exit, stopped and spun around. A huge smile stretched across his face. _It's their new favorite—the one that killed Ana. But now that changes._

Edward walked to the center of the room. He stood, feet an arm's width apart, and after taking a long breath, he chanced a glance at Jasper.

Jasper, however, was watching Ciro's profile with a frown on his face. He didn't turn to look at Edward, but Edward heard the clear warning. _He's a cheat, and he's pissed at you. You'll need to crouch low, let his over-confidence pull him down. You're faster, smaller, and you have a direct line to knowing what his next move is. Let your body guide you. Use your instincts._ And then Jasper looked at him.

Their eyes met, and Edward told himself that there was no way in a thousand existences that words like "body" and "instincts" could be spoken and not remind him of the night before. He couldn't look at Jasper and not feel the press of thumbs between his ribs. He couldn't _not_ feel the light pant beneath his ear.

Of course, Jasper knew. Immediately. When Jasper's eyes widened by a fraction of a hair, and by his thoughts, one long _sonuvabitch_, he knew. He knew, and Edward heard the echo of his own memory reverberating back in scraps of thought.

That shouldn't have been the end of it, but then there was a strange back and forth. Edward was not sure if the memories—the flashes of skin and cut off breaths—were coming from Jasper or him. He did know that they both fought it, trying to clamp it all down. He was certain about that. They both wanted to control it.

It was Ciro's marching up to him that broke his attention from Jasper. Ciro squatted low, rubbing his hands together with a too-wide smile on his face. Edward couldn't help but think that if Ciro was this foul as a vampire, how ugly he must have been as a human. Despite the perfect musculature of his arms, the sharp cut of his jaw, Edward thought his brows were too thick, the hook of his nose too long, but then again, there was probably only so much that even venom could do.

Edward tried to make himself focus.

Jasper walked up to Ciro, putting a finger in his face. "All right, Ciro, you're going to practice standard newborn attacks with Edward. Nothing fancy, yet. He's a fast learner, though, so don't underestimate him."

"Don't worry about me, Major. I got this." Ciro cracked his knuckles with a loud pop.

Jasper rolled his eyes. "Edward?"

"I'm _here_," Edward muttered, squatting low, arms out on either side, his fingernails grazing the rock floor. He could do this. He was good at it. Jasper had said so—yesterday.

He was aware in the next moment of Jasper counting numbers, an _uno, dos, tres_. There was a long moment of pin-drop silence, and then it exploded. Ciro barreled toward him, his logger arms flying wide like a bird opening for flight.

Edward—well, Edward didn't want to _die_, but on another level, it was almost like he couldn't think. He could only react. He dropped backwards, bending and evading, as Ciro's hands grabbed for him. A long barb wire of thought whipped after him as he somersaulted back across the floor, a fist just missing his ear as he spun to the right.

At first, Edward heard the thoughts swirling around the room. Jasper's encouragement, _he has a lazy right side_. Maria's analysis. The mumbling commentary of the silent onlookers.

At first it seemed like it would never stop. It went on and on, but Edward made himself focus. Ciro's mind. Ciro's next anticipation, instinct, reaction. Edward let his mind disappear in the movements, made himself focus on that single light among the many lanterns. It was only when heard the surge of fury in Ciro's thoughts—Edward's ability to stay out of his reach was testing his patience—that Edward realized it was working. He was besting Ciro. Or something close to it.

Then he couldn't help it. He taunted the bastard.

"Ciro, my neck is on my upper body, you know. Just like your brain isn't in your—"

A snarl. Ciro lunged for him, swerving from side to side and trying to corner him in one of the deeper crevices.

"That won't work. I'm faster than you, you great bison."

Edward was aware that his taunts weren't the stuff of legend, but they did the trick. Ciro's next step sent him too far, and he stumbled in front of Edward. Edward pivoted, side-stepping the move. Then, a broad target: Ciro's back was completely exposed to him. Edward didn't hesitate—he kicked him, his heel finding an easy target in the small of Ciro's back, and Edward watched with detached satisfaction as the vampire sailed across the length of the chamber. Maria and Jasper had to scramble out of the way.

Ciro hit the wall, and it was like a meteor crash, a splash of dust and rock and a vampire-shaped crater that shook the walls and floor and air.

Edward was on him, though. He might be shaking, but he had Ciro's arms crossed behind his back, and he was pushing hard enough that even with Ciro's bucking and thrashing, his opponent was not wriggling even an inch out of Edward's full body grip.

It was annoying, though. Ciro's constant barrage of insults. _Fucking bastard—you think you're special now, but wait until they're done with you—they'll tear you up just like they do the rest of their shiny toys. You'll be just another— _Ciro twisted his head to the side to growl at Edward, but Edward had reached his limit; he bashed Ciro's head into the stone with a crack.

But Ciro kept going. He wouldn't stop. _Just because you're sucking Goldie's dick doesn't mean you get to—_

Edward was about to bash his head again, when the loud call of "_Stop_!" filled the chamber.

Edward and Ciro froze, and Edward felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Let Ciro go," Maria commanded.

Edward backed away one step at a time, carefully monitoring the fury present in Ciro's frame. Once he was in the center of the room, he stopped. He waited as Ciro extricated himself from the gash in the stone. Maria's soothing wiping of the dirt off his face, however, did nothing to placate his ire. He looked ready to gut Edward.

"There ya go," Jasper goaded, "had your shot at the newbie—went real well, too. Didn't it?" He chuckled.

Edward was still reeling from the fight when Maria called out, "New rules. First one to touch Edward gets their dinner tonight—no waiting for tomorrow." She beamed all around as if she'd just offered them a candy.

Both Edward and Ciro turned to her in confusion—the words not making sense—until Maria pointed at the two newborns along the wall. "Elisa, Ricardo, _¡Levantanse!_"

There was no lining up on the mark. There was no countdown. Two pairs of red eyes looked at him like he was prey.

Elisa went left.

Ricardo started to run, using his force to run along the wall of the chamber, almost on the ceiling.

Ciro came straight at him.

Edward flattened himself to the ground, avoiding Ciro's lunge, only to have to jerk his head out of Elisa's reach and throw his entire body to the far right as Ricardo flew in from above. Edward tried to twist out—to gain some ground back, but Ciro had regrouped, his arms spread wide. Edward flipped over him.

There were too many. Too many flashes. One mind. One lantern in the dark—but this—the chaos—Edward couldn't sort it out.

Elisa was snapping at him as he twisted out of her way. Then Ricardo was back—and—

Twin walls: Ricardo and Elisa to his left and Ciro's giant fortress to his right.

There had to be a path, like before when fighting Ciro. He'd just let his instincts guide him, but it was as if his whole mind was _blanked_ by the noise.

Edward's eyes were squeezed shut as Elisa dove for his heel at the same time that Ricardo dove at him.

Edward dodged—Ricardo's fingers so close to his shoulders. The dodge worked because Elisa was pushing Ricardo out of the way, grappling with him to get closer to Edward. And Edward was leaping, his instinct setting him on alert as Ciro closed in.

But it was checkmate.

Ciro grabbed him at the same time that Elisa did, to the millisecond—but unlike Elisa, whose smile had transformed to one of whooping victory—Ciro was pulling at Edward, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him away from Elisa, bending his neck.

Edward heard Maria yelling. He felt the cold shiver of thick fingers gripping his neck. He knew Elisa was pushing at something over his shoulder.

But mostly he heard them all. The thoughts—like he couldn't let go—screaming and jabbering—and reprimanding. He'd tried to focus on them before—and he finally had—but now he couldn't let them go.

He couldn't let them go.

Edward sunk to the floor, clutching at his temples. He wanted it to be black. He wanted the noise, the brightness, the suffocating blanket to go the fuck away.

But there was no handhold. No door to open to escape. Edward gripped and only squeezed water.

He drowned.

(o)(o)(o)

He didn't feel the tickling at first. It began as a creep, and then he tried to squirm away as it crept up his spine.

Then, there was his name. "Edward."

Again. "Edward."

It was Jasper. Jasper was calming the voices. Edward nodded furiously. He wanted more of that.

The calm.

It was some time later that he heard the hissed, "Maria, you are such a fucking—"

"Jasper," the voice warned in a low tone. "He needs to learn."

"How about you need to get Ciro the fuck out of here before he chews the arms off Ricky and makes it over here again?"

"Fine."

The voices began to ebb. Edward felt a hand pulling at his. "Come on, up to the cabin. You should know the path at this point."

Edward moved his feet in steps. He let himself be pulled down the rock corridor. He let himself be pulled back into consciousness, although it wasn't like it was supposed to be... "You're sedating me," Edward mumbled.

"Want me to stop?" Jasper pushed him toward the ladder.

"No."

"S'what I thought," came the answering grumble.

(o)(o)(o)

Edward was bent forward on the couch, his hands buried in his hair, when Jasper came into the room and marched right up to him.

"Lean forward more," Jasper said, grabbing onto Edward's shoulder.

Edward balked, jerking his shoulder away—and that was when he felt the pain along his collar bone. He flinched.

"Fucking idiot." Jasper rolled his eyes and angled Edward's shoulder.

"He bit me?" Edward was almost surprised to feel the stinging spot on the back of neck. He hadn't even realized Ciro had been that close.

"Not bad, but it always stings. Here"—Jasper pulled back—"spit in my hand."

Edward stiffened. "Say what?"

He got a long exasperated growl from Jasper. "Let's put it this way—if I put my venom there, it's not going to heal quickly, and it's going to sting like you got swarmed by hornets. If we use yours, it'll seal right back up. _Capice?_"

Fine then.

Edward spit in Jasper's hand, and with the manner of one almost bored with the job, Jasper pressed the venom right in the middle of the cut. Edward felt the press of Jasper's thumb running over the wound, a gentle back and forth, and the stinging, slowly but surely, began to fade.

"Uh, thanks.

"Sure thing."

"You didn't have to—" Edward started to say, when he heard the sound of voices coming from the cellar way.

"I don't care about the stupid, ugly war," Millie whined as she pushed open the door. "I want to read mmmmmmy book."

"Millie, we will do as we agreed, some practice with the newspaper and then another chapter. You gave your word. Otherwise, how are you going to—" Carlisle stopped short when he saw Edward and Jasper on the couch, and it was only when Carlisle's voice faltered that Edward realized how close he and Jasper were sitting, and that Jasper's hand was still laced around Edward's neck.

"I got into something of a scuffle," Edward explained, pushing away from Jasper.

Jasper didn't say anything, but by the twitch of his thoughts, Edward would have said he looked amused.

"Were you hurt?" Carlisle asked in alarm, striding forward.

"Who'd you fight?" Millie spoke over him, seeming to almost hop with delight.

"Three guesses," Jasper answered Millie, leaning back onto the couch.

Edward wasn't sure what he had expected between Jasper and Millie after their fight—but it wasn't this. There was no sense of animosity, no leftover need for revenge from the day before. It was like they'd forgotten completely about it.

"Oh, ugh, Ciro, wasn't it?" Millie guessed.

Jasper scowled.

Millie put both hands on her hips. "He's such a little grudge holder for a newborn. You would have thought he'd have been over that awful little bloodsnot. She had such a terrible taste, too, like lemons." Millie stuck out her tongue in disgust. "And she was so _gangly_."

At his side, Jasper snorted. "Yes, because _vampires _are gangly."

Millie didn't respond, but instead, walked directly up to Edward, leaning over him. "Can I see it?" Millie asked.

"See what?" Edward asked. He was warily watching her hands in her pockets.

Millie giggled. "The scar."

"Oh."

"But if you're offering..."

"Um, no. You can see it." Edward leaned forward.

Millie peered over, and she didn't reach out to touch him. Rather, her eyes bugged out as she looked down. "It's _little_. Tiny and silver—but I guess it's enough to make you look slightly dangerous." She smiled at him. He was surprised that he found the smile to be cute.

"It looks sealed," Carlisle said, and stepping past Millie, he ran his forefinger along the line, causing Edward to jerk as a light sting followed the movement.

"Oh—I'm sorry—I—" _I thought we were past that..._

"No, really. It's fine." He gave Carlisle what he hoped was a smile.

"Rightie-o," Millie sang, bobbing on her toes. "Time to read, yes?" She tugged on Carlisle's sleeve.

"I suppose..." Carlisle cast a long glance at Edward.

"What are you reading?" Edward asked Millie.

"The newspaper," Carlisle cut in, at the same time that Millie exclaimed, "My book!"

At seeing Carlisle's expression, Jasper burst out laughing, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. The more he laughed, the more Carlisle seemed to look even more embarrassed. Edward didn't even have a chance to ask before Millie had reached into her small satchel and pushed the bound copy into his hands.

He almost dropped it. _120 Days of Sodom..._

"But that's—that's so—" Edward had the book balanced on the tips of his fingers as if by touching it, it would somehow infect him.

"Sadistic? Gross? Disgusting? Morbid? Satanic?" Jasper offered.

"Interesting!" Millie piped over Jasper's listing. "Carlisle and I have _theories_. Like university doctor people! It's good to have theories when you read! It makes it more pretty and fun! I for one think that the four libertines were vampires—they would have to be, wouldn't they? To manage forty-six victims, _really_. Humans are so weak and boring—you'd need a rather talented—"

"—aren't we supposed to be reading the newspaper, Millie?" Carlisle interrupted.

"Maybe maybe—but only if we read _mine _next and—"

"—yes, we'll discuss it, as promised," Carlisle replied calmly. "And we'll work on your sentences. You're progressing quite rapidly with your lessons."

Millie beamed at him, crossing the ends of her skirt as she preened at the compliment.

"You're welcome to join us, Edward?" Carlisle offered, a hopeful—if somewhat desperate—expression on his face.

Before Edward could answer, a new a series of thumps pounded across the cellar floor below, and they all watched as Peter's head popped up from the hatch in the floor.

"It's TIME!" Peter shouted, his eyes looking ready to burst out of his head.

"For what?" Jasper asked evenly. Edward felt the whip of calm fly out to Peter.

It didn't have much of an effect, though. "Charlotte!" Peter cried, looking aghast that everyone hadn't immediately divined his meaning. "She's waking up!"

"Shouldn't she still be cookin'?" Jasper asked.

"I said: She. Is. About. To. Wake. Up!" Peter flapped his hands at them. "So, you need to come—now."

Jasper sighed and stood. "Well, then. I'm on my way."

Peter smiled and dropped down into the cellar. Edward heard his footsteps fluttering down the cavern pathway.

"You coming?"

It took him a second to realize Jasper was asking him.

Edward opened his mouth.

"Or you can stay with us?" Millie smiled waving her book at Edward.

Edward swallowed. "I've never seen a newborn wake up..."

Jasper snorted. "Well, there's no time like now." He leaped down the hatch.

Edward glanced at Carlisle and then he looked back toward the cellar hatch.

_A rock and a hard place._

Edward made for the hatch.

(o)(◌)(o)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: i don't own Twilight.

Read: _Your Biggest Fan_ by ofthedamned. It's sweet and complicated and the pacing is delightful. Onward click ye bibliophiles!

A grandiose thanks to Ellecc for beta'ing and putting up with my excessive dashery and exclamation-pointalism. Yee-hah! (lol)

* * *

(o)(◌)(o)

Chapter Six

My undertaking is not difficult, essentially. I should only have to be immortal to carry it out.

—Jorge Luis Borges

(o)(◌)(o)

The five steps that Edward had taken into the chamber had to be taken back.

The newborn was motionless. She was sprawled out on a slump in the cavern wall, the black coils of her hair cascading off the side of the porous rock. Her free hand was cupped around her face, covering her eyes like she was hiding. Her mind was nothing but a porous sponge of _pain, pain, pain _filtering in and out.

But then Edward felt a hand on his back, one firmly pushing him forward. Jasper was easing the flow, soaking out the flood of pain.

"How can you stand it?" Edward whispered, turning to Jasper.

"I'm focused on Peter right now," Jasper said, and he didn't spare Edward so much as a glance as he spoke. Jasper's gaze was fixed on Peter, who was focused on Charlotte.

Edward watched as Peter lowered his head to Charlotte's chest, as if listening for a heartbeat, but then Peter didn't move his head. If anything, he seemed to snuggle it into Charlotte's sizable breasts.

"Peter," Jasper snapped.

Peter didn't budge. He lost to the vision before him.

"_Peter_," Jasper repeated in a half-growl.

When Peter didn't move, Jasper marched forward and yanked him off. Peter landed on all fours, but he still looked lost to the cuckoos, gaping about as he was.

Jasper bent over him. "She is about to wake up—like you said. You planning on keeping that noggin perched on that skinny neck?"

Peter's Adam's apple bobbed as he narrowed his eyes at Jasper. "I was just checking her heart beat. She's a hop short of kickin' over the bucket." Jasper cocked a brow at him, but Peter didn't notice. "She's beautiful, ain't she?" Peter gave a long and worshipful sigh, lost to total rapture yet again.

"She's a nice looking vamp. No doubt." Jasper nodded in a bored way and held out his hand. Peter took it, pulling himself up.

After that, they all waited.

Peter sat with legs crossed like a meditating Brahmin, single-mindedly mesmerized by Charlotte's form. Jasper, in turn, centered his mind on Peter, not unlike a captain sizing up the vista through a telescope. It seemed to be working for him. Edward tried to mimic the technique. He tried to shape his own mind around Peter's exhilarated thoughts, his pore-by-pore assessment of Charlotte's transformation.

It didn't work. It was easier to focus on Jasper. The way Jasper's mind flowed, it seemed to float above Charlotte's pain, like a strong breeze above flooded lowlands. Sunk in Peter's awe, Jasper's thoughts wandered to the births of other newborns: Flicks of diamond skin that sprayed like sand in the sun rays Eyes stained redder than poinsettias ripe from the darkness at _la Navidad_.

Edward was just beginning to get a handle on Jasper's thought patterns when they pulsed, blurring before scattering, and Edward realized Jasper was getting a new feeling from Charlotte. Her crude sensory input was starting to coalesce into thoughts. She was about to wake up—and Jasper was already soothing her. The blanket of ease tickled Edward as it wafted across the room.

"Give or take twenty seconds," Jasper warned in a breath.

Peter, to Edward's surprise, didn't hop or jump or make any of his usual pronouncements, if anything, he froze.

They all flinched when Charlotte's heart thudded and stopped.

It began with Charlotte's fingers. The middle finger lifted. It tapped the top of her nose as if making sure it was still there. It pressed, the cushioned pad sketching the slope. Charlotte knew the texture was _different_. It didn't feel like her skin. It was_ too hard, too smooth._

She could smell it. She was so thirsty. The hint of perfect aroma lingered in the room. But it was so faint—rather, she smelled three—_threats. _Charlotte's nostrils flared. Her eyes sprang open. Her chin jerked in their direction, cracked into the rock with a clap, and then she was back against the wall in a crouch. She was growling, hissing at them.

Jasper spoke first, hands raised in surrender. "Whoa, down there. We're no threat, sweetie." He spoke like he was sweet-talking a bucking stallion.

He got a venomous screech in response.

He replied with a wave of calm. More soft shushes. "We just want to take care of you. No funny business. Get you something sweet as your smile. That's all." He smiled at her, although he showed no teeth.

Charlotte kept her eyes locked on him, her toes wiggling in the dirt as if to find the best possible footing.

"She's in a lot of pain," Edward said.

At his words, Charlotte's hand was gripping her throat, and her eyes fixed on Edward as she registered his words to be true and put a name to the burning ache that made her shake.

"That's right. You want something to drink?" Jasper nodded as he spoke.

Charlotte was nodding along with him. Her hand gripping her throat as if the pressure could help with the pain—Edward knew it couldn't.

"That's right, sweet Charlotte. We're going to take care of you. Peter, that one there"—he pointed at Peter—"he's going to roll back that stone. Once that stone is out of the way, you're going to take that trail until it dead ends, and then you'll find what you're looking for. Sweeter than honey, you'll just follow that smell."

Charlotte was nodding furiously now, looking up at him as if his words were solemn gospel.

Peter, however, was not moving the stone so much as snuggling against it, his dreamy gaze locked on Charlotte.

This did not impress Charlotte. With a shriek, she sprang at Peter, shoving him aside and throwing her weight against the stone. By the time the stone had rolled and crashed into the opposing wall, Charlotte had long since raced down the tunnel, and Peter was already recovered from his fall to the floor and was skipping along after her.

Edward and Jasper sat in silence for one second, two seconds...

And then Edward heard the spike of softer thoughts crying out. The rip of flesh in the claws of a monster.

"So, like I said"—Jasper turned to look at him—"that's how it is with newborns."

Edward swallowed. He looked back toward the open tunnel. "That wasn't the way with me. Carlisle stood a ways back from me and fired a round on a cow."

"You drank a cow?"

"Yes."

Jasper looked like he was about to laugh, but he didn't. His lips straightened into a line, and his eyes turned thoughtful. "Huh, we might have to try that. Save us a lot of work—and scars." Jasper winked at Edward, and then without a word of explanation, he spun on his heel, heading in the opposite direction of the tunnels that lead to Peter and Charlotte.

"You're getting her more? More..." _dinner, victims _"...people." Edward asked, trying to sort through Jasper's intentions. "But aren't you going to check on her and Peter?"

"Peter's got her, and yeah, she'll need a lot more. The newborns always do. Thirsty and cranky." Jasper scuffed his heel along the floor.

"Oh..."

"You want to come?"

"Hunting?" Edward caught the thought.

Jasper stopped at the base of the upper tunnels. He didn't turn. "I'm going up to change—and you're dumb as a stump if you think I'm gonna ask twice."

Edward heaved a sigh, and then fell into step behind him as they ran toward the house. It wasn't that there weren't any other choices—it's just that weren't any better ones. _The deal_, he reminded himself. The sooner he figured out Jasper, the sooner he could get Carlisle and himself out of this internment.

Jasper's footfalls slowed as he came upon a long gap off the main chamber. He slid into the gap feet first, and took the path as the top ledge slumped over, but the bottom widened into a half-chamber. It formed a cove that was full of supplies. Edward followed and watched as Jasper flung open one of the long trunks, the brass hinges and locks creaking in the darkness.

The next thing Edward knew, he had a shirt in his face. Then, a dinner jacket. Finally, a hat.

Edward didn't ask. Instead he watched as Jasper studiously gazed between two hats. The first was a long-brimmed, black leather version, a ribbon of silver along the crown; the second, a faded brown with a red feather off the side.

"The black?" Edward suggested.

Jasper's brow furrowed as he glanced over at Edward. "But the red feather goes so nicely with my eyes."

"You're joking…" Edward frowned at him. He wasn't sure actually—and he also wasn't sure if it was Jasper making him unsure.

Jasper's thoughts pulsed, the image of Edward's expression sharp in his mind, and then he burst out in laughter, shaking his head. Edward was still trying to figure out what was so funny when Jasper turned back toward the trunk and pulled off tossed off his stained linen shirt.

Edward saw the scars. His eyes were drawn to the silver glistening of a mark that went from just below Jasper's left shoulder blade all the way down to the top of his trousers. The discolored length of it was wrong in a way that settled in Edward's gut. He wasn't even sure how another vampire could make another scar like that—especially if they were fighting Jasper.

By the time Edward realized that he should be doing the same—putting on his shirt and jacket—Jasper had two black coats pulled out of the trunk. He brushed the dust of the shoulders of the second and shrugged it on. After that, Jasper checked the cuffs for any frayed threads. With a final flourish he pushed the black hat onto his head.

When he turned to look at Edward, the laughing smirk was long gone from his face. "Ready?" he asked.

Edward pretended he was, even though he was pretty sure that Jasper knew he wasn't.

(o)(◌)(o)

"I don't want to kill a human. I want to hunt an animal."

These were Edward's words once they were outside, legs stretching in sync with the wind as it rolled down the leeward side of the mountain.

"What about a monkey?" Jasper was toying with him.

Edward's step faltered. "There aren't monkeys out here."

"That wasn't the question. Hairless monkeys look a lot like humans. Better upper body strength, though. Crazy biceps. You think you'd eat a monkey?"

"Fine. Yes, should the opportunity present itself, I'd _drink_ a monkey. If you have one stowed around some corner, I'll take it. Monkeys aren't _human_."

"That's really nasty." Jasper's hand went protectively over his stomach.

"I said—" But then Edward cut himself off. It wasn't worth it.

When Jasper didn't say anything, Edward turned to look at him. Jasper's thoughts were… almost contrite. His voice was placating when he said, "You do realize that I'm being an ass on purpose. It's okay to throw it back. You can be mad at me."

"I _am_ mad at you."

Edward's tone tweaked a smirk on the corner of Jasper's lips.

"You are—but you also yank the reins too much. You shouldn't do that, better to just roll with the hay and all."

"You should take your own advice."

"I do."

There was another stretch of silence, their feet patting with the pace of the wind. Edward had to end it. "It's not that. Well, not _just_ that." Edward broke his gaze from Jasper's. "What's the point of being mad at you if you can make me not mad—or what's the point of being mad if you're making me that way?"

"I didn't. That was all you."

_Not all the time._ But Edward didn't say that.

"Besides," Jasper continued, "that's like me saying 'what's the point of me thinking my own thoughts about you if you can hear them?' Why think at all, right?"

"It's not the same." _I can't twist your thoughts like you can twist my emotions._

"No, but it's not all that different, either."

Maybe it was because of the vibes Jasper was getting from Edward or maybe it was just because there was a change in the scent on the wind, but Jasper swung his arm to the west and pointed. "There aren't any monkeys, but there were some _lobos_ out that way last week. Thin grey ones. How does that sound?"

"Fine."

Jasper didn't say anything after that; he just veered in the westward direction he'd pointed at before, not slowing his speed in the slightest. Edward kept pace.

When they were submerged in the brush of one of the deeper valleys, Jasper caught the trail. They followed a game path until it spit them out along a dried river bed. It was in the twisting spires of the next slope that they found his wolf.

He knew that the animal heard him before it saw him. The wind was roaring with angry punches against the limestone. Edward saw the twin spots of yellow eyes reflected in the moon, and then Edward was on the creature. He had the four limbs pinned and he was drinking.

Or trying to.

He was thirsty, but he had to make himself finish it. It tasted nothing like...

The faces flashed before his eyes. He had to shut them out. This was worth that. The faces. The warm skin. The breaths that filtered from smiles. It was like Carlisle had told him time and time again.

After Edward had buried the dog, he looked down to see Jasper seated at the bottom of the slope.

"All done there?" Jasper called, even though he knew Edward was.

"Thank you. I didn't want to—you know that I—" he started. It was awkward, like vomiting in front of someone. Edward had to wipe the blood off his chin.

Jasper held up a hand with an eye roll. "It's better that you hunted first. This will make it easier to drag you through the city."

"The city?"

"What? You think you can't handle it?"

"I don't know." Edward thought of the strain he had experienced on his journey south with Carlisle.

"Well, practice makes perfect," Jasper said, and then he took off, bound in the direction of Monterrey, not bothering to look back. He didn't need to. There was no question that Edward would follow.

(o)(◌)(o)

It was past midnight when they arrived at the edge of the city.

"Don't even think about it," Jasper warned.

"Think about what?"

As they broached the first paddock just past the city's edge, horse after horse began nickering fearfully. It was unnerving.

"The _horses_!" Jasper snapped. "They are not food. Now, you can nibble on the _lobos_, steers—what have you—all to your sorry heart's content, but I will be damned if I'll let you mangle a proper riding horse. I can respect a man's preferences as far as they don't affect me, but you start salivating over a finely-formed broodmare, and I might need to drop your ass in a volcano." He shook his finger in Edward's face.

"I wasn't _salivating _over the horse. If you didn't notice, we're freaking them out."

"Oh, _that_." Jasper clapped his hand over his mouth with theatrical exaggeration, and Edward realized he'd been waiting for him to ask.

"Yes, that." Edward crossed his arms.

He got a grin in reply, and then Jasper stepped forward. He held his arms up high, closing his eyes, and then he began to swish first his fingers, then his hands, and then his arms in wide strokes. It was like an orchestra conductor or even a magician casting some earth-shaking incantation—and it was stupid to watch because it worked. The wary nickering and bucking stopped as the wave seemed to flood through the pasture, soothing each mare and gelding. A few of them even turned their snouts to gaze after Jasper with relaxed interest. Because of Jasper's talent, it was suddenly "okay" that two alpha predators were stalking along just meters away from them.

"Very nice," Edward acknowledged, fighting a smile.

"My favorite part of my talent." Jasper nodded with fervor, staring half-longingly at the herd.

"Now who's ogling the horses," Edward teased.

Jasper pinched him.

(o)(◌)(o)

They ground to a halt as they came upon the long stretch of Monterrey saloons.

"Okay, where to?" Jasper gestured to the long line of front-lit porches.

"I'm not sure I can…" Edward trailed off. Even if the burn in his throat was less, the sting of the new scents was terrible. He tried not thinking about them. He tried not honing in on the subtle beats on the distant throats, but the smell, even a hundred feet away, was driving him to madness.

He heard Jasper whisper, "How about this?"

Edward felt a new sensation. Similar to calm, but this time it hit his throat directly. He felt fuller.

"That's"—Edward's hand went to his neck—"better. Definitely better."

"So, my affecting your emotions. That's okay right now?"

"Yes. I appreciate it."

"Mercy me, not impinging upon your space, am I?" Jasper fluttered his voice like a bashful girl's.

"Shut it." Edward swiped at him. Jasper dodged easily, a lazy grin easing onto his face.

"I just know how these things work, and also"—he gave Edward a playful look—"you already ate. As long as you're not focused on the hunt, you'll be merry and square, but I haven't eaten and my tummy is growling." He rubbed his silent belly.

Edward rolled his eyes.

"Last one there's the monkey-eater," Jasper hooted, and then he gave a confident skip forward, headed straight for the nearest cantina.

Jasper went in first, getting them a table in the back corner of the patio. Edward joined him a minute later, slinking through the bushes on the side of the veranda, before scraping the iron wrought chair across the blue tiles. Jasper had already ordered them drinks. Edward sniffed it—smelled like cactus wine—before he looked up to scan the patio and indoors. From where they sat, they had a perfect view of the room, all the way to the elaborately carved front door. It was odd. Before they'd even entered, Edward had made out from a distance that the cantina was upscale, but still, he was surprised to see the number of Americans and other foreigners in the place, mixing with the elite of Monterrey.

"Take a breath yet?" Jasper asked.

Edward nodded. "I'm still not safe or controlled. I mean—I still feel like I'm a starving child surrounded by chocolate cake."

Jasper wrinkled his nose, although his expression was thoughtful. "I'm not a hundred percent, but I'm pretty sure I never tasted chocolate."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Christmas oranges, I remember those. We had a small grove out on the homestead, I think. Strange, I don't remember much else about the place, but I remember lying between the roots looking up and seeing the balls of orange, the mesh of green, and the blue, blue sky." Jasper smiled softly. "But yeah, no tin of cacao to be had. Not in the frontier family's budget, I'd reckon."

Edward nodded, although he wasn't sure what to say. It was odd to think that Jasper was a half a century older than he was. Edward was about to ask another question when Jasper inclined his chin, his eyes flicking across the room. "All right—tell me what you 'hear.' Black poncho. Wyatt Earp mustache. Stupid ugly gold ring. Drinking claret in a pint glass so that people think he's not a puff. He's suspicious, but also"—Jasper narrowed his eyes—"a bit irritated. What's the story?"

"His thoughts?"

"Yuh huh."

Edward listened in. _She's looking at him again… Third time this night… _The image of a man's pocketbook being slid into his satchel by the thin, feminine fingers. A slit of cleavage showing when the lace dipped_._

"That woman—the one in the blue dress, short brown hair—she's a pickpocket," but then Edward trailed off, because Jasper's thoughts were already filling in the rest of the story. "How'd you know?"

Jasper tapped his temple. "Because of the connection between the two of them. She"—he pointed at the woman, who was leaning over a fat-faced German—"is irritated with our Wyatt Earp fellow, but she's more worried about the guy who's looking like a constable in the corner." He pointed to a thin man with an untouched beer at the long bar. "Our Wyatt Earp fellow, however, is a bit thick and hasn't noticed the constable. He just wants to get out. Moreover, _no jealousy_. A man watches a woman's every move that way—and that's normally what it is—but not those two, they're business partners. What he's feeling is _greed_, and I have to say, greed's a might harder to feel. It's easier to deduce when you get a read on both Wyatt Earp and our little pickpocket."

Edward was cringing. "Focusing on both of them is hard. I didn't even catch the man in the corner. I wasn't sure if the guy was helping her run a ring or if he was law enforcement himself."

"A ring," Jasper insisted. "There is zippo-zero disapproval in our mustachioed pal when he watches her. He just gets pissed off when she hesitates."

Edward nodded, still listening in. "He's being pretty stupid, actually. He's going to get them both noticed if he keeps glaring at her like that."

Jasper chin dipped. "You know, practice makes it easier."

Edward froze and he finally understood the angle of Jasper's thoughts: the flashes of Ciro, the swirling movements of fighting newborns. "Is that what we're doing, _practicing_?"

"I'd say this is a hell of a lot better than Maria's method, wouldn't you?"

Edward didn't answer. He realized that in these past few minutes he'd not had a single thought about his captivity—about Maria. Even with the pain in his throat, he'd been enjoying himself.

_Yanking the reins…_ came the thought from Jasper, and then he spoke. "Okay, another one. You see Mr. Don I-have-big-ass-hacienda talking to the missionary priest in the corner?"

Edward nodded. The black garb of the _padre_ stood out from the rest of the cantina's clientele. The Don, meanwhile, was possibly the loudest person in the place, his booming baritone erupting in staccato laughs every few moments or so. It sounded like he was drunk.

"What's really going on?" Jasper whispered with his hand cupped over his mouth, before crossing his arms over his head and leaning back in his chair.

Edward listened in. The conversation was in Spanish, but he could still make out most of it through the mental images. Even still, he turned back to Jasper a moment later with a flat expression. "They're talking about chapel attendance—and nothing else. The padre hopes that the Don will fix the southeastern well. It flooded or something."

"Nah, there's more…" Jasper grinned, his head tilted to the side. _Desire held back by the thump of impatience and—_"Now, now, now!" he hissed, pointing as a pretty barmaid walked up to the Don's table.

Her hips were swishing as she asked, "Padre, Don Begoña, ¿_algo mas__?_" She leaned against the table with no obvious force, but beneath the table, her leg tangled with the Don's, and the images: _Red faced and smashed into the mattress, she breathed and moaned, and the Don drove in and out and the wood creaked with each thrust, and—_

"_No, Lucia. Gracias," _the Don answered, eying the _padre_—who was ignoring the barmaid—with utter impatience, as the priest's speech seemed to grow more monotonous and sanctimonious by the second. The Don was regretting offering to buy the man the last round of drink.

"Uh, it seems like the barmaid and the Don know each other pretty well."

"Yuh huh," Jasper laughed, his eyes seeming to shine despite their deep mahogany.

"You knew before…" Edward trailed off, taking in the thoughts of all three.

"Lucia was easier to read than the priest and the Don. She's even more irritated with the _padre_ than our Don Begoña, and then there's that sticky tinge to her sensibilities, that glue-like yearning. She likes the Don a lot more than a working girl should."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh_." Jasper wiggled his head and laughed again. He was about to say something else when three new men came into the bar. "Now these fellas…" Jasper's eyes narrowed as he focused on them.

Edward tried to do what Jasper had urged him to do before. He tried to see their thoughts as a group: _Nadie est_á_ la puerta…_ _Bohemian stemware—nice._ …_Dinero y mas dinero, los ricos_…. .…_Some of those paintings would fetch a fair price._ _Three men with guns—one who actually looks like he knows how to use one._ …_That is a fine piece of flesh in if I ever saw… Those German son-of-a-bitches in the corner look like they've got some funds. The vault can be popped—_

"Robbers," Edward gasped, at the same time that Jasper commanded, "Edward, hold your breath."

The cantina owner, a squat man who was bald yet had a thick beard, approached the newcomers. He lacked the welcoming smile he'd given the other customers, even Jasper. In fact, Edward could see his hand itching up along the fabric of his pocket, back toward the handle of his pistol.

His fingers never reached it.

There was the sudden shine of metal glinting in the light, and the click of a trigger.

The cantina owner found himself with a cold tube of a gun pressed against his forehead.

Then all three men were shouting in English and Spanish—threats bouncing off the walls and terror seeping into the minds of the on-looking patrons.

"Edward, stop looking like you wanna gnaw on their femurs, play along, and get the fuck down on the floor," Jasper hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

"But they're—"

"_Get down_."

Edward lowered himself slowly, keeping his eyes on the three men.

"I got this. I handle newborns on a regular basis."

"But they're really bad... They're probably going to kill someone."

"_Someone_, but not us. Our species is bullet proof. But that's not the issue. The issue is that you need to focus on not making a spectacle of yourself if blood gets splattered—so let me handle it."

With a grimace, Edward inclined his head. He held his breath.

In the room, the robbers were fanning out. One of them, who looked to be a skinny American, had a knife against the cantina owner's throat. It was this that was stalling the reaction of the constable by the broom closet. More noticeable, the buxom pickpocket and the Wyatt Earp-like fellow were side-by-side at their table. Wyatt Earp was pulling on his mustache in an irritated, bored fashion—like he just lost a round of cards. The _padre_, meanwhile, was bent with his head between his knees, hands crossed over an ornate, silver rosary, and he was chanting muddled prayers in Spanish. Edward heard the rhythm more than the words, frantic and uncontrolled. The priest seemed close to wetting himself...

But then Edward saw why, and it wasn't just the robbers.

Don Begoña's gun was cocked beneath the table.

The American holding the cantina owner wasn't looking in his direction. He had the gun pointed at Lucia. "Take Pierre to the goddamn vault!" he screamed.

Jasper's hand gripped Edward's bicep at the same time the trigger clicked.

The Don was a tin shot. His shot went high.

There was a long second when everyone ducked, cringed, or dove for cover. The _padre_ wet himself.

Then the shots began, and Edward smelled blood.

The owner. The American robber had jerked the knife in the course of the gun-shot.

The blood. _Oh, God._

Edward's nostrils flared, and he was standing, rising in the air, ready to leap.

Jasper pulled him back. Edward felt a smack of something like ice water—except it wasn't that. It was Jasper and _shock_—and then there was the yank of his feet out from beneath of him and the sudden fall of darkness.

"What—where—?" Edward spoke over his burning throat.

"We're going to wait in the broom closet until they're finished up."

"This isn't the broom closet."

"It's a shed. Serves the same purpose."

"How can you stand it?" Edward knew he was pushing on Jasper, straining toward the smell. Outside another round of shots fired.

"Well, I can't say you're helping." Jasper's nostrils flared.

There was another shot. This time a hit. Edward was pretty sure it was the Don. There was the smell of piss and cigar and succulent, toothsome red. "But the blood..." he whined.

"Hold your horses. There will be aplenty."

"But more people will come. We'll have to leave."

"Nah, you'd be surprised—"

Another shot. A woman's scream. The sound of feet scrambling. A man running toward the front door. A fired round. It missed. The door slammed.

Silence.

Jasper looked thoughtful. "Oh, see there. They're done." He smiled, and then he slapped Edward. Hard.

"Fuck! Ouch."

"Hold your breath. Snap out of it." Jasper flung open the door.

Outside, there were four new bodies. The constable. Two of the robbers were on the floor—and then the Don. There was also the _padre_, although he wasn't dead—just passed out.

"Somebody get the sheriff," Jasper called as he moved forward across the room.

His voice, so calm in the midst of the bloodshed, seemed to have an instantaneous effect. The remaining patrons of the cantina scrambled, picking themselves out from under the overturned tables and all making for the door. The pickpocket was sniffling on the shoulder of the Wyatt Earp fellow as they made for the door.

There was only one healthy soul remaining. It was Lucia, the pretty barmaid. She was bent over the body of the Don, her tears falling over his face. "Ay, no..." she breathed.

The Don wasn't dead yet, but he was close. Even with his breath cut off, Edward could hear the fading thoughts, the stuttered heart beat.

Jasper was watching Lucia, too. The look on his face was one of someone making a decision, and Edward registered his decision only a millisecond before he stepped forward and clubbed her on the back of the head.

Edward gaped in surprise, only to feel even worse as he caught the expression in Jasper's eyes.

Cold, hard.

It was like before, like when Jasper'd been fighting with Millie. Edward felt like he wanted to weep, like the whole room was sinking all around them.

Jasper, however, paid no attention to Edward's response. "You take the Don," Jasper ordered. "I got the other two. We'll bring the girl and the priest back for the newborns."

Edward took a breath. It was a mistake. The line was cast, and Edward ended his single breath in a dive for the smell. His lips plastered themselves to the gouge in the fine jacket.

Edward tasted lead.

(o)(◌)(o)

He admitted to himself that he knew they were going hunting for "extras" before he left, but even still, he was in partial shock each time he looked down in his arms at the stinking body of the priest, still unconscious from the episode in the bar.

Jasper didn't head straight back, though. Despite the fact that he was carrying the barmaid, he led Edward from rooftop to rooftop, nose sniffing the scent in the air.

It was the third robber. They were hunting him.

Edward wondered if that was okay, if the robber being a criminal lessened their guilt. Edward wondered if it was okay that he felt worse that they were taking the barmaid than the priest. The priest was... well, if Edward was honest, he didn't like the priest that much. The barmaid's thoughts, though, they had been so earnest at the end.

They found the robber outside of town, riding on his horse.

The man never knew what hit him.

Jasper swung in fast, knocking him off the horse. The horse slowed down, almost confused as to the loss of its burden, but then it caught their scent. It screamed and bolted. Jasper picked the man up without stopping, and then he carried the two figures.

Edward almost wanted to make another horse joke, anything to lighten this funereal sprint.

But Edward was sensing Jasper loud and clear now.

No jokes.

(o)(◌)(o)

When they were back, Jasper had Edward put the priest in the old shack along with his two.

When Edward looked confused, Jasper didn't speak.

_Peter will deal with them later, _came the snap of thought.

Jasper brought Edward up to the house, where a fire was going. Edward was still overwhelmed with the scent of blood, the odor of piss from the priest, so it took him a minute to distinguish the new smell.

A new vampire.

When Edward turned the corner, the new one was sitting opposite Maria on the sofa. His hair was slicked back, and his nose sniffed in disgust as he took in the scents emanating off Edward.

Behind him, Edward heard a snarl from Jasper. Then, the slow boil of black hatred. A feeling even blacker than what Edward had felt after Jasper knocked out Lucia.

Despite this, Jasper strolled forward with cool grace, plunking himself into a rocking chair and stretching his legs out over the coffee table. His voice was bitter as he asked, "What news from _La Capital_, Mazatl?"

(o)(◌)(o)


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Twilight.

Er, thanks (I think?) to the AngstyGoddess for her shamelessness in encouraging certain aspects of this chapter. And as always, snuggles, hugs, and big thank you's to ElleCC for her brilliant betamagick.

* * *

Call no man foe, but never love a stranger.

—Stella Benson

(o)(◌)(o)

There was a half-second where Edward tried to read the new vampire's thoughts. It didn't really work. They weren't in English. Or Spanish. Jasper's words "What news from La Capital, Mazatl?" were stamped down and spit up in a sequence of syllables that caused Edward to rock back on his heels. He didn't understand a word. Though Mazatl's pointed chin, broad nose, and amber-honey skin showed clear distaste at Jasper's entrance, his thoughts were a puddle of crossed _x_'s and too many _t_'s.

"He's Aztec," Jasper explained out of the corner of his mouth.

Across from them, Edward watched Mazatl, watched him smile in a slow curl, not unlike the bright slope of long talon.

But Maria was the one who spoke. The words dripped out of her mouth, and Edward's mind seemed to coil in its shell as he failed to recognize the sounds until the new clicking of words halted in an abrupt smile, and she said, "It seems like we might have an opportunity." Her voice was steady, but Edward detected an almost-shiver to her thoughts, the face of another vampire came floating into her mind—only to disappear. Maria was excited, though. Edward was sure of that. This new vampire, Mazatl, had brought good news.

"Well...?" Jasper urged. He looked anything but pleased.

But Maria turned to Edward. "Edward, would you be a dear and head down to the main chamber? I think Millie and Carlisle are having a reading session down there?" She chuckled, before turning away from him. "Thank you," she finished, and Edward realized he was dismissed.

He cast a quick glance at Jasper, only to see him locked in a direct stare with Mazatl. The coldness of the connection was enough to make him hurry his steps. He went into the anteroom, lifted the cellar hatch, and descended into the caverns.

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward kept his head ducked low as he made his way into the main chamber. In the veins of the caverns he could hear the thoughts of the other newborns. They were talking about Mazatl. Jasper. Maria. Him. The huddle of fast-speaking Mexicans huddled by Lucy's skull was talking in quick Spanish, but the group of American southerners he could hear—both in speech and thought.

The dark-haired fellow from Mississippi was speaking to the other two. "Last time he came, Maria tore apart Lupe like dog flesh—but this time she's all right." _She even gave us seconds, despite Peter's infant taking half the batch._

"I just don't see how we're supposed to manage Monterrey and take on the new plans."

"Then you haven't seen how this coven operates."

"Yes, I have. Slave ship." _Like flies in a web. "_One slip up and..." He slid his finger across his throat.

One of the vampires laughed in response, while the other—the one with the reddest eyes—cringed, casting a glance at Edward. _Samuel said they only keep the best—and they've already chosen him. Maria looks at him like ripe fruit._

Edward jerked away as he caught the vampire's eyes. He hadn't meant to do that. He hadn't meant to see the ice in them, the cruelty beneath the normal-seeming worry. If Jasper were here, he would have known. Shaking his head, Edward moved across the chamber, hugging the wall and its steeped columns. Up ahead, he could hear the soft intonations of Carlisle's voice mixed with the soft reply of Millie's.

"...I don't see why we're so hung up on Kittie. She made out pretty well."

"She broke from societal rules." It was Carlisle's calm voice. As Edward rounded the corner he came into a full visual: Carlisle perched on the end of a flat rock, and Millie and two other vampires on either side of her. "She almost ruined the reputation of her entire family."

Millie made a show of yawning, her small hand flipping to cover her mouth with ridiculous drama, but then her eyes flitted in Edward's direction. "Edward, do you like that... book?" She pointed at the volume in Carlisle's hands.

_Pride and Prejudice._

"Never read it," he answered and he drew closer.

"It's stupid," Millie said with a pout, crossing her arms and frowning at Carlisle.

"What happened to your..." Edward paused—if he were human, he'd be blushing..."other book?"

"We finished it!" Millie exclaimed with total delight. "But then I let Carlisle choose."

"But this book is nicer," said another one of the newborn females, and Edward recognized Elisa, the newborn from his fight with Ciro. "It's... romantic," she finished, almost shyly.

"Ew," Millie grumbled.

"Millie, there is nothing wrong with love—or family as themes," Carlisle said.

"I didn't say anything was wrong with _themes_. I just think they make for boring plots. Can we read _Frankenstein_ next?"

"I suppose..." Carlisle started to say, but he didn't finish.

Edward was barely able to anticipate Millie's sudden outrage, because suddenly she had wheeled around and was nose to nose with Elisa. "Stop staring at him!" she barked.

"I wasn't—" Elisa began, already backing away. But she had been—she had been focused on Carlisle. She still was. His face, the soft-sharp features, the golden halo of his eyes, the way they were shaped in her mind. Elisa thought Carlisle was handsome, sweet, beautiful—and Millie had picked up on it.

"You can't lie to me," Millie countered, matching every scoot that Elisa made with a step forward. "He's not yours to stare at."

Edward took a step forward and then stopped himself—he didn't know how he'd handle Millie.

"Millie, stop," came Carlisle's frustrated sigh.

"No."

"You promised."

"Not this." She took another step toward Elisa.

"Millie, please stop."

Edward was shocked to see Millie pause, but then came the troubling surfacing of her new thoughts, and even more, a slightly malevolent smile came across her features. "I'll stop if..."

"If what?" Carlisle asked.

"A kiss," Millie said.

"That would break our deal."

"I didn't say you'd be kissing me." Edward saw the image flash in Millie's laughing thoughts at the same time that Carlisle's eyes flicked in his direction.

"No."

"Fine," Millie snapped, and she grabbed Elisa by the neck, even as the newborn tried to slip away.

Elisa uttered a "No" that was sharp on then first _n_, so very clear, but then slowly faded out on the final vowel, one long _ohhhh_ that trailed down the length of Edward's spine as Elisa draped into Millie's arms, her mouth going slack as her eyes grew unfocused.

"Millie..." Carlisle hissed.

"Carlisle..." Millie cooed back, half-giggling.

Edward was lost between the two-worlds: one in which Elisa was drowning in the lullaby, and the other, a perfectly logical one in which Millie and Carlisle seemed to be negotiating a ceasefire.

"Whom do you want him to kiss?" Edward demanded, even though he knew the answer.

Carlisle averted his eyes at the same time that Millie grinned. "Why the prettiest boy in the room... can you guess?"

"Ciro," Edward deadpanned.

Millie laughed, actually releasing her grip on Elisa's neck, and then she walked toward Edward, swaying her hips as she walked, her tiny gold dress glowing pepper red in the lantern light. "No, no, no. You're the prettiest. Sweet, sweet Edward with the pretty mind. You're definitely the prettiest, and I'm not the only who thinks so, am I?" With the final whispered question, she kneaded her fingers into Edward's.

It wasn't as intense this time. The edges of his vision faded but he could still distinguish Millie, he could still make out Carlisle's words—"He doesn't have to..."—he could still denote the pull and then the push. When he looked up, even with Millie's hand in his, he could depict every crystallized pore in Carlisle's face.

Millie's voice was only somewhat distant. "I'll be good, I promise. Just a single little..."

Before him, Carlisle was shaking his head, but Edward found that with each passing unit of time, Carlisle's lips were closer. Edward was somewhat baffled by it all. It was just a simple request? And with this feeling pulsing inside him... wouldn't it feel better just to feel—to touch—and press? Edward nudged forward, his eyes shutting as he angled toward Carlisle, toward the awaiting mouth.

The lips were stiff. Cold. But Edward kissed them anyway, guided by the quiet reassurance that held his hand. He knew that this was silly. It was just a kiss. It shouldn't be cold.

But then the lips moved, and Edward tasted first the slip of wet, and then the darker sweetness—the serpentine dive of the deepened kiss. A hand rolled down his shoulder, caught his bicep and held him, gripped him tight, and made him sway with the new imbalance of their bodies, while all the while the lips against his went from gentle nips and the softest of pulls to a mash of furious sucks and almost bites and there were nails in his skin. A hand tugging on his lower back and then at the edge of trouser pocket and down...

Edward was still lost to the lullaby when the small girlish hand slipped let go and backed away. At first it didn't matter. At first, Edward used his free hand to grab the man in front of him. Edward swayed with the body pressed against his. He kissed and was kissed back. The fabric beneath his fingers stretched and pulled and Edward was thinking about skin... about wanting more... when the euphoria faded and the images-words-intentions began to fill his mind.

_Edward. Human. Alone on the hospital cot. The lantern light illuminating the sweat on his brow. A pale finger pushing a sweaty lock off his forehead. — Edward distant among the pines. Racing. Racing. Running. The wind. Would he come back? — Edward's haloed face as he sat next to Jasper on the couch. His Edward. _His_—and something more, something that shouldn't be, something that was there and growing no matter how he tried to smash it down..._

Edward paused. He halted. His mind searched the room, even as Carlisle's body continued to respond to him. But Edward couldn't let go. The visions left no room for doubts or lies. It was like Elisa. It was like how she'd looked at Carlisle—but so much more extreme. Carlisle was attracted to him. Carlisle wanted him. Carlisle was in love with—

He shoved Carlisle off, backing away, even as he heard Millie's groan of disappointment and saw the shock and horror dawning in Carlisle's face, as he watched the avalanche of thoughts, the tide of regret.

Edward looked around. He wanted to scream at Millie, ask her, "How could you?" He didn't, though. Instead, he turned to see Jasper and Mazatl standing in the doorway. Mazatl was looking annoyed, but Jasper... his jaw was set. His eyes were fire red. He was angry, Edward realized. Jasper was furious.

"Millie—" Jasper started.

"—don't you start! You liked it too!" With her hand on her chin, she sighed exaggeratedly in Edward's direction. "So prrrretty..."

"Millie, we're leaving. Five minutes."

That ended her pout. "Seriously?"

"We've got an expedition to the capital. That..."—Jasper gave her a look—"one we've talked about"

"Oh. All right then." She stood, fluffing out her dress. "Who else is coming?"

"Peter, his newborn—"

"—Uck. I _hate _babies—"

"And Edward." Edward looked up, and in his periphery, he could see Carlisle doing the same. "That's right, Shakespeare, you ain't coming along," Jasper called to Carlisle.

Carlisle didn't say anything. He seemed to slump back against the wall. He wasn't looking at Edward.

"And _pretty boy_, you're coming with me. Now."

"No, I'll take him." Millie bounced in front of him.

"No. You're going to get Peter and Charlotte." And with that, Jasper grabbed Edward's hand. "Edward is coming with me."

Then they were walking, Carlisle, Millie, and the rest of the vampires were figures, then lines, then dots, and then the curve of the cavern made them disappear completely. Jasper and he came to the fork where the right leg split off toward the cabin and the left split off toward some darker channel, and Edward had to dodge the wall as Jasper pulled him left, and they descended into the depths, away from the lantern light, and away from the voices and thoughts of the rest of the coven.

Jasper was still running when Edward halted. Jasper still had his hand on his wrist, so Edward's entire arm was yanked, but still, he held his ground.

They were just standing there, in the total darkness. The both of them.

Edward felt it more than saw it when Jasper lunged at him.

He didn't move out of the way. Therefore, when Jasper tackled him, they both toppled back, sliding across the slick cave trail, slipping amid the puddles in the dark until they stopped with a screeching of rock. Edward lay silent as Jasper pinned his hands above his head. His eyes searched the total darkness as he felt the beats of Jasper's breath on his lips, he tried to decode the thoughts, but he couldn't really make heads or tails of the mess—too tangled.

It was after a long moment that Jasper said, "You're not fighting me."

"What am I fighting?"

"Me."

"Why?"

There was a huff, followed by the cursed acquiescence in the thought, and finally Jasper spat, "You were supposed to _learn_. Why in God's name do you think we've been doing all this training? This is not daisy picking. That b— _Millie_ wasn't supposed to be able to force you."

"How do you know she forced me?" There was no strength in Edward's voice as he asked.

"Same way I knew about the Don and the barmaid. I put all the pieces together. Millie was popping like corn in a kettle. Little heartsick Elisa had wounded pride and a bit of the green monster. You had all the say-so of a lamb being lead to the butcher—and goddamned English was—"

Edward cut him off. "Fine."

"Fine."

"So...?" Edward was trying to sort through Jasper's thoughts. Trying to decipher what the fuck was going on.

"So you need to _learn_ how the fuck to use your talent."

"How am I supposed to do that if we're headed for the capital?"

Jasper didn't answer, but he loosened his grip on Edward's hands. He was starting to pull away when Edward asked, "Were you jealous?"

The question took even Edward by surprise, but it had sprung from his lips as the image from Jasper had filled his mind. The set of thoughts: _No turning is selfless. Lips that shouldn't be there._ There was the way the thoughts seemed to heat as Edward's hand pushed into Carlisle's hair in Jasper's memory.

"I—" Jasper started, but then he stopped. He stopped, laughed with a hysteria that sounded almost cruel. Edward was still sorting out the thoughts when Jasper leaned down, so close that his nose was brushing Edward's. Their cheeks brushed as Jasper leaned to whisper in his ear. "Jealousy is the wrong word."

Jasper's hands tightened their grip once more. Teeth grazed the edge of his ear. The length of Jasper's body pressed into him, so hard it almost hurt—and then he was gone. His body removed.

Jasper was heading up the tunnel once again. "I'll be up in the cabin," he called.

Edward couldn't even find the right swear word.

But he was sick of this. Sick.

(o)(◌)(o)

He was back at the fork in the tunnels when he ran into the "older" vampire. Mazatl. The shadowy quality to his skin became clear in the lantern light. Edward almost hoped to brush past him and pretend they have no mutual business, but Mazatl stopped him, stepping in front of him and blocking his way.

When he spoke, his accent was English-sounding, like Carlisle's but flatter. "You're Maria's ace in the hole, yes?"

Edward paused. He didn't like the vampire's tone, and he especially doesn't like that his thoughts were such a jumble of languages. It made it even harder to understand him than the others. "I'm just doing my part until I can get out of here."

"When you get out of here..." Mazatl head cocked ever so slightly to the side at Edward's words. "That assumes an exit."

"It does." Edward wished he could take several steps back from the vampire. He wasn't sure how much Maria had told him, even though he seemed to be in her confidence.

"I have a question. Do you _like _Jasper?"

Edward scowled. "Not at the moment."

Mazatl's face didn't change. "What about the yellow-eyed one, Carlisle is his name?"

"He's my... He created me. That—the _exchange_ from before—that was because of Millie."

"Mildreth could use a leash."

Edward almost smiled, but then Mazatl leaned in close. "It's not a straight shot. There are other options, especially for one so 'pretty' as Mildreth says. If you want, _I_ can be an exit."

The words were said in an even tone—but the images—the implication of the thoughts—the _violence_.

"You mean—you'd want me to—to—" Edward took a step back.

"Service me." Mazatl looked him up and down as he said it.

Edward was too appalled to answer. He didn't even know how he could answer.

Mazatl either didn't notice his disgust, or he was enjoying purposely provoking Edward. There was a bored laziness to his voice as he said, "We will see. The information I provided to your coven is valuable, and if it leads to a successful raid, maybe Maria will let me have you anyway. She's reasonable."

"She wouldn't."

Mazatl frowned at him, giving him a look that was both at once condescending and sinister. "Don't be so quick to cry. Once upon a time, she even lent me Jasper. He was new and malleable back then." Mazatl smiled, slow, and wide. His teeth were in perfect order, but they reminded Edward of acid paper from old books. It made his throat seize up.

"I—no. No, thank you."

Mazatl dipped his head, like they'd just had a perfectly polite conversation. "Just remember. You might be the ace in the hole, but the ace only matters in certain games. There are many games where the ace is just a face card. It has no power." Mazatl swished his hand through the air, cutting at the empty space.

"No, thank you." Edward repeated, staring at the ceiling. He was grateful that his voice didn't tremble, and then he pushed past Mazatl and half-ran up the tunnel.

Behind him he heard the trailing of words: "Someday soon you'll be saying 'you're welcome.'"

Edward closed his eyes and ran.

He was glad when Mazatl's scent disappeared and the earthy odors of the cabin and the cellar filtered into the tunnel. He would find Jasper. No matter what that creep had told him—the coven wasn't like it used to be. Because Jasper was a leader, too, and Jasper wouldn't let that happen. Edward knew it in his gut. Maria might be conniving, but Jasper was faster, stronger, and in control of his talent—more than Edward was—and someday Edward would be in control, too.

He would learn. He would get better, like Jasper had said. It would be all right.

Edward was at the ladder. He was about to the push open the hatch—when he heard them.

"_Si. Si. Si_," Maria repeated, and the image—her eyes were flicking from the paneled ceiling to the bunched sheets at her side—and then she arched up. She arched and she moaned, and there was the undeniable image of Jasper, Jasper with his trousers ripped down, the laces undone. Jasper with his head thrown back. Jasper with his—Edward could see the base of it—moving in and out between Maria's thighs.

Jasper was fucking Maria.

(o)(◌)(o)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Twilight belongs to people with money. This story garners me an irritated fiancée and something to amuse my internet friends. Yeah, you see…

A/N: The Slash/Backslash 2.0 finished. It was wonderful. I miss it. ~paws the web for more slash~ Anyhoo, I should be posting a personal rec list to that one _sooner than later_ on my Twilight rec page (see the link to my LJ; it's not on the Fav list) on my profile.

Otherwise, the **In the Closet contest** is now up for voting for the m/m entries. All the entries are anonymous so… *Pastiche slaps her hand over her mouth* but I think it's pretty obvious who wrote—_I mean_, go check them out!

Finally, Thank you's… I'm like snuggling Angstgoddess as usual for her help, and then Ellecc remains epically amazing as a beta. I discovered today that I keep doing "towards" instead of "toward." Why? I don't know…

* * *

(o)(◌)(o)

And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud.

—Walt Whitman

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward shut them out.

He was clutching his temples, but it wasn't a physical action that shut them out.

One moment he was there: the great amphitheater of voices surrounded him. In the rocky channels below him, the mean thoughts of the newborns pumped and chugged, and above—so, so close—there was Maria. Jasper. Center stage, full spotlight. With their stupid fucking. With their bare, slapping of skin. With Jasper's teeth locked, with his eyes skyward. With Maria's drawn out _ay ay ay ays_.

Edward couldn't take it. Like before, he thought he was going to lose it. Faint like some biddy.

Yet, that didn't happen, because in the next moment, the world went silent. The periphery of his brain seized upon the drawstrings like a man-overboard clutching at ocean driftwood. Edward wrestled his own mind. He wrestled and he won, finding the handles, the right twists.

Edward, for the first time since becoming a vampire, grasped control of the voices.

The long moments passed where Edward sat there, alone in the cellar—focused on only himself—pathetic and miserable in his selfish silence, his hurt… his anger.

He let his anger grow. He would go on this trip. He would work on this talent. He would see through the smoke and mirrors. He'd find out who was the spy. He'd rip it from their minds and tell Maria without any regret. If it was Jasper, fuck him. If it was Millie, damn her. He wasn't going to be anyone's pawn anymore. He and Carlisle would leave—they would have their freedom, and then he would leave Carlisle.

At that final thought, Edward started to shake. It would mean being alone. He would be a true nomad, and he knew, undeniably, that his departure would mean hurting Carlisle. He couldn't deny that now, not after the kiss. Millie had been holding his hand—manipulating Edward's urges—but she had not manipulated Carlisle's. As Carlisle's affections had entered his mind, Millie had played no part in it.

Like before—it was too much—and Edward felt certain he was losing something important in all of this, but then he realized that such trivialities didn't matter anymore. One step at a time. Edward just needed to be free.

(o)(◌)(o)

Peter was the one who found him. Edward heard him approaching. Peter's bobbing thoughts sneaked under the curtain in his mind.

"Hey, there," Peter greeted, plopping himself down at Edward's side. "You ready? We're leaving in five." Peter's face with friendly enough, but his thoughts were focused on Charlotte. Millie had taken her to get her "dinner."

Edward merely nodded.

He heard the question forming in Peter's mind before he got it out. "So… with that… trick …of yours"—he waggled his eyebrows at Edward—"you think you could tell me what Charlotte's opinion of me is?"

Edward blinked. "She's a newborn."

Peter groaned. "I know that, but we're going on this trip, and people get to know each other on adventures, so I know she mostly growls and gnashes her teeth and whatnot now, but I can see the underdevelopings of a sensational personality, and thusly, I can't but be a mite hopeful that we might be…"—Peter scratched his head—"compatible parts, ya know?"

Edward looked away. He didn't bother to hide the chill in his tone. "You want me to spy on her for you?"

"No!" Peter held up his hand, looking utterly gobsmacked. "No. No. Not spy… but more like..." Peter bobbed his eyes from side to side as he sorted his thoughts. "Give me a general impression—like whether or not I have a hopeful loaf upon which to feast or nothing but dried-out crusts? Maybe a tip or two?"

His expression was so earnest that Edward almost wanted to laugh. Peter's mood was so contrary to his own—it was sweet, so he said, "I can't make any promises, Peter, but I guess if I see... a mutual compatibility, as you put it, then I can give a hint. Why not?"

At his words, Peter's expression changed from one of complete worry to bedeviled merriment. "That's fine! Yeah, that's great. I mean—you have _no ide_a. Every time I'm around her, I try to be myself, because that's what you're supposed to do, but all I do is stutter and—a _vampire stuttering_—it's a confounded case of the heebie-jeebies if there ever was one—but I just can't help it—so thank you!" Peter flung his arms out like he wanted to hug Edward. "God-sent angel you are—!"

"—Peter, it's okay—" Edward batted Peter's arms down. The graciousness was more than a little overwhelming.

"—a cupid-like ally like you, because Jasper thinks I'm a touch lunar—and Maria think I'm all lunatic—so—"

"Really, Peter."

"Oh." Peter's whole face froze, and his thoughts came to a grinding halt. "I can help you, too, you know."

"I don't really need help." Edward cringed. "Unless you can get me out of here."

Peter's bottom lip bulged out. "Well… not so much that, but I was thinking… that you've had some troubles with Jasper, and he's a tricky fellow on the butter icing layer, but the cake batter is steady recipe, so to speak, so maybe you'd like—"

"—no." Edward was horrified, both that Peter had noticed that there was _something_ between him and Jasper—and that he was having to discuss it.

There was a moment of silence. Total silence. Quiet enough for the sounds in the cabin above to filter down. Edward could hear the realization as it formed in Peter's thoughts, as he focused his hearing on the bedroom up in the cabin, and as he turned to face Edward. "Er, they're back up to that foofaraw?"

Edward closed his eyes and asked, "How soon do we leave?"

"Soon enough. You know—that up yonder—it don't mean anything. It never has. He just gets upset, and well, him being talented and all..."

Edward stood and began walking down the tunnel and away from the cabin—with Peter's thoughts in such close proximity, it was hard to ignore the slapping of marble skin upstairs. He sped down the slope, even as Peter kept step.

"I really want to be of help," Peter repeated, running up alongside Edward.

"Don't worry about it."

"You don't have a double crush on that Carlisle fella, do you?"

"A double cr—no. _No_."

"What about Elisa? She's pretty cute when she's not mean and thirsty."

"No."

"What about… Charlotte?" Peter's voice went wary, even though his thoughts were playful.

"No."

"_My_ delectable physiognomy?"

Edward shook his head. Peter was trying to make him feel better. "My apologies, Peter."

"S'all right. Art is unique to the beholder and all... Not Millie, yeah?"

Edward snorted, and then picked up speed. They were nearing the main cavern again.

"Well, you just let me know how I can be of service to your person, and I'll be happy to repay your magnanimosity."

"I appreciate that."

"Welcome," Peter responded, and then they both halted, because they had come out through the opening, the lantern light was warm across their faces, and they were in the main chamber. Millie was there with a white-faced Charlotte at her side and Carlisle… Edward searched the room. Carlisle was nowhere to be seen—his thoughts weren't here.

Millie, however, hopped toward them. "Oh, good! You're both here!" She clapped her hands together.

"All assembled except for Jasper."

Millie nodded, before her eyes narrowed in implication. "And he'll be down soon." She giggled, giving Edward a wink.

Edward almost snarled at her, except that there was the unexpected eruption of giggles—Edward turned in total surprise to look at Charlotte, who had her hand clapped over her mouth, and was undeniably stifling a fit of girlish titters. When she caught him looking at her, she giggled even harder.

"She's weird," Millie explained to Edward.

"You leave her be," Peter cut in, taking a step toward Millie.

But Millie ignored him. "Edward-pretty-Edward, if you're looking for Carlisle, he's hiding from you. You hurt his feelings," she tutted.

Edward jerked his eyes away. "It's your fault."

Millie yawned loudly before drawling, "It was getting annoying. The crackle-crackle-pop tension between the two of you was upsetting my radar."

"Your radar?"

But Millie was beginning to stroll toward him, hips swaying. "And _I_ thought Carlisle could use a little taste. That expression on his face when we read those dopey novels…" Edward backed away just in time as she attempted to snatch up his hand.

"Please don't."

Millie stood before him with her distinctive pout. "_See_, that's why we all like you so much. You look like a pretty puppy when you tell us 'no,' as if we have you by the leash and there's nothing you can do about it. It's hard not to want to pet you when you yip like that."

Edward froze, angry and half-embarrassed because she was saying it so that everyone could hear—because it was true—and because he just… "Get away from me, Millie."

"Make me," she sang, and she took another skip toward him.

He didn't back away, rather he shoved her. She bent with the push of his hand, but then she sprang right back, laughing, and trying to grasp his hand all over again.

It was a weird instinct that made him do it. The same instinct that he allowed him to shut out Jasper and Maria before—but he grabbed her hand. Hard.

The instant his skin touched hers, there was the flood. Unlike the feeling of his own mind, the echoing amphitheater, Millie's mind was an undeniable inundation of thick swamp—the way the sounds drowned out. The way his vision blurred. Yet, this time Edward had an instinct—a sense of the edges of the pool.

In the refracted light, Millie's hand was sliding up his arm. She was sequin-scaled and beautiful, twinkling in the gemstone crispness of the depths. But still, this time he could see her. Just like he could see the edges. The lenses were different, that was all. The way her thoughts moved in the water—it inverted the amphitheater like mirrors—but mirrors were just mirrors. When her index finger hooked beneath his chin, he held back. He grabbed her hair and felt her gasp at his denial. He used his grip on the back of her head to make her head swish horizontally—to show her "no."

But then he stopped. He stopped and turned because the edges of the pool were interrupted by the presence of… Edward was sure it was Jasper. He was sure because he could feel the spiking in the water around him, like the rising of waves in a tempest.

He turned to look back at Millie, at her surprised face and the siren-shape of her mouth.

He gave a final glance back at the edge of the pool again. Toward Jasper. He almost wanted to let go. Descend into the depths. Do what had been done to him. Make Jasper watch as he succumbed once again.

Except... that wasn't him. He let go of Millie's hair, and he pushed her away. Watched her blur into the currents.

He was taking his first step back as Peter grabbed his collar and pulled him even farther out of reach. "For the love of—you should do what I do—spit at her if she gets close."

Silent and grim-faced, Jasper had a hand clutched on Millie's shoulder. Edward had expected Millie to jerk away from Jasper. He'd even expected her to lash out over Peter's comment, but neither of those comments had gained a response from Millie. Instead, Millie was staring at Edward, her eyes fixed in confusion, and even as her thoughts remained hard to decipher, he knew that she was aware of the change in him. He'd blocked her, not well—but enough.

It was Maria that restored them all to order. "You all were supposed to have left minutes ago," she snapped. "Light will come soon, so no more dawdling. On the trail. Follow Peter, Edward," she commanded. "Run."

Edward didn't look at Maria. He didn't acknowledge her. He ran, straight ahead, following Peter. Behind him he heard Charlotte fall into line, then Millie, and then Jasper. They soared down and out the tunnels until they emerged into the open air, bound for the capital.

Edward searched their thoughts as he ran:

Peter was fixated on Charlotte's form as she sprinted along. Her breasts were bouncing with each stride and Peter was trying to look without getting caught. Despite his own inner turmoil, it made Edward want to shake his head.

Charlotte was completely focused on everything around her. The buzz of the passing flies. The high swoops of the bats in the early night. The blasts of the dust and wind through the moors. The way her feet moved without her having to think.

Millie was wondering about him, about how he'd blocked her. She was pretty sure he could read minds, but was that all? She wondered if Carlisle knew… and then her mind started sorting through the images of Carlisle and Edward, of Carlisle reading to her. Edward was having a hard time deciphering whether the image of Carlisle reading was positive or negative… Millie interpreted his explanations as one who didn't fully understand them.

And Jasper. Jasper's thoughts made Edward want to shut down again. His thoughts were locked on Maria's prone and bent figure, on her whispered promises _siempre siempre_—on the flashes of past couplings—on—

Edward pulled his mind inward. He ran.

(o)(◌)(o)

They halted when it was still dark. They'd run for just under three hours. Not all full speed. They'd taken every side path imaginable, avoiding the cities and towns, roads. There had been one moment where Charlotte had caught a human scent—she'd started to veer when both Peter and Millie grabbed her arms—realigning her. Forcing her forward.

They halted along a dried out stream.

Jasper began issuing instructions. "Right. So, before I carry on about battle tactics, everyone needs to hunt—but _low key_. We're not in the Conks territory, but we're dancing on the poles of their lawn fence more or less. As for how we split up, Charlotte needs a crash course in newborn attacks, so I'll take... her. Peter, why don't you go with Millie and Edward?"

Peter's face visibly fell. "But why do I...?"

"Because you're going to make sure Millie behaves herself around Edward."

"Oh." Peter nodded.

"Millie," Millie crooned, "is going to be the model of _comportment—_so don't you start talking like she's not here—because that is churlish, uncouth, impudent _and no way to speak to a lady_." Millie crossed her arms and glared at Jasper.

"Would you like to add another definition of 'rude,' or was four sufficient?" Jasper muttered wryly.

Millie beamed at him. "Carlisle taught me. In our lessons!"

Jasper sighed, blowing out so that his bangs fluffed. "I really hate Shakespeare right now."

"Oh, it's just a few pretty words, but then again, that's not what's got your feathers poofed. I know the real reason you're on about Carlisle—" Millie started to say, her eyes gleaming in Edward's direction.

"Would you go molest something ugly?" Jasper cut her off. "Please and _thank you_. Now, Charlotte, you ready?" _I need to get the fuck away from—_

A tittering of giggles came as the reply. Charlotte was nervous. Hungry, too. Always hungry, but she was also nervous. Also, Jasper scared her. _The other newborns said…_

"Come along then," Jasper said, dipping his head toward the west.

Charlotte started up, gracing forward with only a touch of hesitance, until Jasper fell into step with her, and then they picked up speed, following the curl of the riverbed as it wound out through the hills.

"All right," Peter clapped his hands, "we off to rustle some grub or what?"

"I am parched," Millie chirped, batting her lashes at Edward. "I think we should head up the road until we find a carriage or coach. How about that?"

"I don't really want to hunt," Edward swallowed, before adding, "humans."

"Oh!" Peter nodded. "Well, I can take ya—I went with Carlisle that first time, so I got the—"

"No!" Millie barked, and her next words were not at all what Edward expected. "That's all right. We'll all go with Edward. We'll let him hunt first, and then we'll take our time." She grinned at Edward. "Besides, I hate-hate-hate hunting alone, even more than I hate rushing."

"You really don't have to. You could go…" Edward began, but Millie shook her head.

"I want to watch," she said, and then she giggled, clutching her hands over mouth as she did so.

With an eye roll, Edward gave in, and they set off.

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward brought down a mountain goat.

Millie, because she decided she wanted to help, caught another goat. At first she held the animal awkwardly in her arms as it kicked and bucked, but then an amused resolve struck her countenance, and she squeezed the beast like a cotton-stuffed toy, announcing, "I'll hold Pickle 'til you suck his sister dead!"

Edward almost spit goat blood.

Peter, however, thumbed his chin. "Should we name the one Edward's got? I mean, she's about to go to great beyond and all, so it'd be a short-lived christening and all…."

"Her name is Flower," Millie answered with a thoughtful nod, while all the while roughly petting the baying Pickle.

Edward took this moment to search the edges of his mind and block out the disturbing thoughts of his two fellow vampires. It worked for about a second until Pickle, losing control of his inner systems, shat on Millie.

It was a good thing that Edward had pretty much drained Flower, because the next thing he knew, a manic goat sprang into the air, only to be caught by the tail by an irate Millie. "Bad-bad-bad Pickle!" she screeched.

Peter had his arms crossed. "If Edward's gonna drain it, I really don't see the point…"

"Millie, hand it over," Edward commanded.

Millie chucked the goat at him. Edward caught it, stopped the bleating with a quick slice of his nail, and made himself drink. It was even worse than before because both Millie and Peter were staring at him with something akin to morbid fascination.

"It wasn't at all pretty like I thought…" Millie observed with a pout. "Maybe we should try a different animal? Like a jaguar?"

Edward threw down the dead goat. "When is killing ever pretty?"

(o)(◌)(o)

It wasn't a caravan so much as a coach. One minute the black hooves were beating through the dust, and in the next moment there was the shrill snap of the yoke breaking from the chassis, the cry of the driver as he saw the black shapes swirl around him. The front of the carriage slumped forward, skidding up a cloud of dust as the horses fled.

Edward watched from a distance as Peter stopped the carriage. Millie already had the driver. Edward was half-thankful that she'd caught him before he even hit the ground. Inside the coach, Edward could hear the screams and the wrenched thoughts. There were two men. One younger. One older. The smell of blood caught the breeze through the open door, and Edward had to halt his forward steps as he reminded himself that these weren't for him.

It was just that the younger man had a broken nose.

Peter grabbed him. He reached in from above and yanked the younger man up and out of the carriage, bending the man's neck back at the same time that he bit down. All in one practiced motion.

The man inside knew—the way his son had just vanished. Demons_._ He started to pray, rapidly whispering the prayers even as he considered making a run for it.

Edward wasn't breathing. He was trying to close off his mind—like before. It was just hard... when the scent...

He jerked when he felt the cool hand slide onto his shoulder.

"You look like you're going to cast a spell," Millie said, fluffing her hair as she gazed at him.

"I'm trying not to focus on them..." Edward murmured.

"On their blood?" Millie snorted. "You're a newborn, even if you're a special one."

"I just drank."

She shook her head. "Yes, a Billy goat and his _sissy_. Doesn't count. Not for a newborn. So, Edward, you want grandpa over in the coach? I'll bring him to you, if you'd like. You only have to say please, and I'll bend him over your knee…"

"No, thank you."

"Oooh, _manners_. Fine then, I'll behave, too. If you'll excuse me…" She gave a ridiculous curtsy, along with a sassy wink, and then she ran. She swung around the wall of the carriage, peeked her head in through the doorway, and smiled at the old man. "Hola!" she greeted.

The man, trembling as he was, paused to view the angelic profile that peered through the door. "Señorita, de donde...?" But he didn't get to finish, because Millie sprang forward. She caught both of his hands and pulled him out of the carriage. Edward groaned as she brought the human before him, plopping down with the larger man in her lap.

Not that the man noticed. His thoughts were completely dazed.

"Do you think he's good looking?" Millie asked. Her head was curled beneath the man's arm and she was looking up, examining his face.

Edward closed his eyes. The man was in his fifties. He had a black beard, brown eyes. He looked like a normal man.

Mille huffed. "Oh, look at you, you're doing it again."

Edward ignored her.

"Well, if you're going to be like that..." Millie sighed, and then she turned back to the man, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing frown on her face. _Ugly or pretty or too old or too baby or..._ But then Millie gave up, a _smells good_ reverberating through her senses, and she nudged the man's head to the side. She kissed his neck, to which the man responded by groaning back.

When Millie finally bit into his neck, the blood seemed to lace out through the air like a thread, and Edward found himself leaning forward, his nose arching with the waves of scent; each inhalation lashed like a whip.

Millie saw his reaction, of course. She smiled, she pressed her tongue against the leaking skin, and then she blew him a kiss with bloody lips.

Edward tried to look away. He couldn't. Not when her lips were that color. When the thin, red fingers reached out, inches from his lips and dripping blood-moon drops from the nails, it was too hard—no, impossible—to not lean forward, flick out his tongue for a taste. He sucked the fingers into his mouth because he had to.

Even as he heard Millie's mental jig, the cackle of -_somebody- thought they could resist_, Edward moved forward and immersed himself in the crushing scarlet seas.

(o)(◌)(o)

"Right, the Conks are not going to be sitting low while we scout them out, so we're going to need to be on our toes," Jasper said, looking at each of them around the circle.

The Conks was the shortened name for the capitol coven. Edward knew from the past few weeks in the caverns. Conks were short for the _conquistadores_. They'd held the capitol city for the past four centuries. All covens in Mexico hated—and feared—them.

Jasper continued talking. "They are not supposed to catch our scents—which means..."

Jasper stopped his sentences because Millie was not paying attention, or rather she had taken his "be on your toes" advice to start performing pirouettes, on perfect toe pointe, with her goat-stained dress swirling in a somewhat scandalous manner above her knees.

"Millie, would you be so kind as to sit your hind end on the dirt?"

"Don't worry," Millie sang, spinning with her leg in the air, "I'm listening—not that I haven't heard this before—a hundred thousand, billion, trillion, zillion, mumblety-eleventy _times_."

"Fine," Jasper snapped, turning back to the rest of them, and by his eye roll, it was clear that he was intent on ignoring the prancing Millie. "So, simple arithmetic, who here have they not smelled?"

Charlotte giggled, pointing to herself. Edward reluctantly nodded.

"Exactly, you two. Millie, Peter, and I are known quantities, but you two are the ones that can get close enough to do some surveillance.

It hit Edward what Jasper meant. He'd be doing more than the normal amount of surveillance.

_That's right_, came Jasper's thought, _you and I will need to talk alone_. Jasper wasn't looking at Edward. His finger was pushing lines into the dust, explaining the lay of the city, the situation of the coven, and the general hazards. Still, Edward caught the flick of the eyes that centered on him. Edward didn't reply. He didn't need to.

Jasper knew.

(o)(◌)(o)

During the meeting, Edward monitored Millie's and Jasper's thoughts, trying to catch the images and impressions as the discussion centered on the "mission." Jasper's thoughts were focused—step by step, plan and tactic—while Millie was thinking about... everything else. She was thinking about new dresses and about getting new books. She was thinking about the kill they'd made earlier, how Edward had been so messy—but still pretty. When her thoughts started to drift toward Carlisle and books, Edward made himself try and focus on Jasper and the others.

It was bad, because Edward was realizing that he hoped neither of them was Maria's spy. He hoped, even as he instinctively dismissed the thought, that it was Mazatl, even as Edward doubted that Maria had trusted him with any information. He wasn't part of the coven. Besides, she'd stated her terms. Only Millie and Jasper could have known. It made Edward frown, because Millie, even with her ridiculous flirting and spats of temper, was... amusing.

Also, she hadn't tried anything on him—even when he'd been mad with both lust and blood lust as they'd drunk from the man...

Edward was supposed to be mad at Jasper, too, but… he was disappointed. Hurt. He was irritated, but... he wasn't the type to hold on to something he'd never had a claim over—which was to say he felt anything—which who knew what he was feeling these days? Not him.

Maybe Jasper.

It was the approach of Jasper's thoughts that cut off his pondering. There was the scrape of a heel through the dirt, and then the curl of thought: _Would you please stop that ludicrous emotional teeter-tottering, and please come along for our conversation?_

Edward turned and glared at him.

Jasper smiled back, wide and teasing. He had a long stick yoked across his back, his hands loosely gripping each end. Knowing he had Edward's attention, Jasper swung the stick out, pointing toward the west. There was a dip in the land out there…

Edward stood and started walking. Jasper joined him.

They had gone more than a mile, and with the wind blowing toward them, rather than away, they were sure that no one from the camp would hear them. Jasper's first words were not what Edward expected.

"So you had a run-in with Mazatl?" Jasper seemed to choose the question above so many others…

Edward met Jasper's eyes before looking away. He almost wanted to make some rude dodge—but he also wanted Jasper to know—not to mention that Jasper would probably know any way. "Yeah," Edward mumbled, looking down.

"What'd he bug you about?" Jasper's voice was innocent, but his thoughts…

"What do you think?"

"I'm asking you." Jasper's voice was gentle. Extremely gentle. Edward almost expected some calming wave to accompany its softness, but there was no wave, no manipulation, just Jasper's voice. Jasper was asking him a question.

"Well, since you already have an idea... Mazatl said he'd like me as a _prize_—like he'd had… you."

"I see." Jasper's voice was hard now, and the tension in the air...

Edward looked up to examine his face. Jasper's thoughts were rolling fast. He hadn't wanted Edward to know—_but now that old-ass fucker…_

Edward could _feel_ Jasper's anger. It was palpable in the air, like licks of flames as he could touch. Edward's voice almost trembled as he asked, "Is Mazatl some sort of rite of passage?"

Jasper ran his hands through his hair. He was trying to calm himself, and yet, Edward saw flashes—flashes that made his hair want to stand on end, but Jasper's voice was steady when he answered, even though he was determinedly not looking at Edward. "Yes and no. Mazatl is a really old fucker who _used to_ be important but now is mostly a hack. In the old days, when the Aztecs were in control, vampires like Mazatl and Maria had it pretty well."

It was a change of subject, but Edward went with it. "_Maria_ is Aztec?"

"Yep. Miyahuaxiuhtzin," Jasper pronounced, and Edward watched as Jasper's lips moved and his tongue clicked across his bottom teeth to pronounce the syllables. Then Jasper shrugged. "Even vampires can pronounce that one wrong, so she goes by Maria—and besides, she wasn't changed by a fellow Aztec. She was turned by a name you've heard mentioned already, Alv—"

"Alvarado?" Edward finished, nodding. The name had been in the minds of many of the coven's members. Maria's included.

"Yeah, Alvarado. Nasty sonuvabitch." Jasper smirked. "Got some creepy talent that no one knows about. He picked out Maria among the locals, turned her, and gave her a new Spanish name. Put her to task with helping him conquer the great Aztec coven. The Aztecs used to be as great as our current vamp ruling family, the Volturi—even had the locals bringing them blood sacrifices on their own volition. They'd just go out and sparkle in the sun—and wouldn't ya know"—Jasper's lips pressed into an "o" for one teasing second—"the people thought them Gods."

Edward almost smiled. Jasper's anger had dissipated, and Edward thought he looked… _nice_ as he explained. "So... Alvarado ended the great Aztec empire?"

Jasper smirked. "Not just Alvarado. You have the human contingent, Cortez and all that. Although, some say the Volturi had a hand in it. You've probably heard of them. There's even talk to this day that it was the Volturi who sent Alvarado and the rest of the Spaniards to the New World. Think about what it meant. Europeans coming to the Americas meant the end of the world as the vampires of this continent knew it. There was the printing press. This great linking of information. Today, people worry about electricity and airplanes, back then everyone was worried about ships and colonies and daily newspapers—the horror!" Jasper wiggled his fingers dramatically. "Anyway, the long and short of it was that the Americas had to adopt the Volturi's rule: keep the secret. They hadn't had to worry about it before."

Edward nodded. "And ever since, Alvarado has ruled?" He'd heard bits of this from Carlisle, but most was new—especially about the Aztecs.

"Well, his coven, the Conks have, yeah."

"So, wait—why did Maria split from him?"

Jasper snorted, biting his bottom lip and shaking his head. "You got that ass-backwards."

"Oh, _he_ left _her_."

Some of the tension returned to Jasper, and Edward heard the slight grind of his teeth before he explained. "Alvardo already had a real mate, 'Doña Isabel'. Now Doña Isabel is something of a piece of work, I'll say, with the little that I know about her—not that Alvarado is a sweet duckling, but Isabel refused to travel with him to the New World when he first set out, so what'd he do? He went without her, but then, he did well, got himself an empire, which was enough for her to change her mind and take a long swim... so she showed up—the stubborn lovers were reunited, and the first person to get kicked out was…?"

"Maria."

"Yeah, she's lucky she left with her head attached—I'm not actually sure how she managed it—but you know her well enough now, she's not one to take a jilting lightly."

Edward whispered, "Hell hath no fury like..."

"...like a woman scorned, I know," Jasper laughed, if a bit darkly.

"Then why... I don't get it. Why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Lead these raids, participate in these constant wars." Jasper was staring at him in a severe way, but Edward pressed on. "I know you don't do it for Maria—I mean, how could you? She's still obsessed with Alvardo. She's not... it's about some old grudge. So why this? These battles?" Edward looked down, examined the structures of the crystal rocks in the dirt.

At first all Edward heard was silence. Jasper's mind was full. "At first, I was pretty stupid…" _I believed her lies. _Jasper brushed his hair out of his eyes. "But now 'battles' are the only part of this life that make the slightest bit of sense. I'm a soldier. I always was one."

Edward was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "I wanted to be a soldier, before I got sick—I wanted to fight in the war."

"All boys do."

"But at least that war had a purpose. These wars don't."

Jasper rolled his eyes. "All wars have the same purpose. Blood, power, territory, occasionally sex. You can switch the words around. You can call a horse a mule and pretend like it ain't got hooves, but it's all the same."

"I don't believe that."

Jasper laughed. "Of course you don't. Hell, you're one of the types that can go through the war and still keep your high morals. Make believe that it's all justified in the end. You were just a victim to your cause."

"I don't make believe—it does affect me—I remember every human death that's on my hands, and what do you mean by 'high morals'?"

"High morals? Well, for starters, you look horrified by everything."

"That's because this world is insane." Edward scowled.

Jasper laughed at that.

Another moment passed, and Edward asked, "How'd you get that scar on your back? Was it from a battle?"

Jasper froze, and just like that, his smile was gone. "Not a battle."

Edward saw the first of the images. "Oh..."

Jasper didn't the word speak aloud. _Mazatl_.

"He...?"

"He didn't do what you're thinking." Jasper kicked the dirt. "Can't you pull it out of my mind? You're supposed to be working on that? Or do I have to say it?"

"Your thoughts aren't… clear on the subject."

Or maybe Edward wasn't comfortable really looking at them.

Jasper kicked the dirt again. "Well, I won't say he didn't try, because he did."

"Okay," Edward answered carefully. Jasper's back was angled away from him, but the images wouldn't leave Edward's mind. He half-imagined he could see the glowing scar through the thick fabric of Jasper's shirt.

Jasper's mouth seemed to force itself into a tight smile. "Let's just put it this way. Mazatl tried to stick it in my mouth. I warned him, and he tried it anyway—thought I was a malleable little sucker."

"He—you—?" Edward didn't believe the image he was seeing in his head.

Jasper sighed. He could sense Edward's confusion. "I bit it off, okay?"

Edward blinked in shock.

"Yeah, it's an ungodly shame that vampire parts are reattachable."

(o)(◌)(o)

* * *

Okay, final pimpy-a/n:

_Yesternight_ got nominated in two categories in the Slash awards… This made me happy, since 1. I didn't know about these awards until I was told I was nom'd—so that means some of you randomly nom'd YN-thank you! 2. Have I mentioned how I think contests are amazing ways to generate good reading lists? Well, I do. So go read the slash cache: theslashawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com.

Next, I am going to be a guest on TwificPimps this upcoming episode. We'll be talking about slash. This makes me extremely happy. So stay tuned…


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Twilight.

A/N: So, um, me = four months later fail. HOWEVER, as penance, I come bearing **TWO** chapters, as opposed to just one, because I had 9 written in October, but then I realized that posting it then would have been rough and very unkind and cliff-hangery. You'll see why. Anyway, the next chapter should be posted in the next hour or so for you impatient types.

**So where were we?**

Edward is confused and mindfucked because that's Edward in this story, and Maria sends 'im off to Mexico City to spy on her ex-boyfriend's coven. Of course, she sends him with a lunatic succubus, a newborn, Peter, and a badass blond emotional-seesaw. This is of course after Jasper acts weird around him (due to a kiss with another blonde) by going and doing the dirty with Maria. Edward is sad and Millie remains terrifyingly giddy. Anyway, he and Charlotte are now on their way to spy on ze evilll ebil capitol covensssz. Fun.

***Enormous thanks to **ElleCC **who beta'd and the lovely **katinki **who pre-read and made these chapters far better than they otherwise would be. *HUGS*

* * *

**Chapter 9:**

As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.

—William Shakespeare

(o)(◌)(o)

Charlotte was pressed against him, her hand clasped on his shoulder. Beneath them, the floor of the boxcar trembled, and the wheels of the train keened in their rusted roll across the iron rails. Through the thin line between the wood door and wall, he could make out the parched countryside. Dry season grasses looked stripped and bleached against the red earth. Packs of white cattle chewed the harvest with dull labor. Hungry ravens sat on broken fence poles.

The boxcar was supposed to hide their scents, allow them to get close survey with no clues as to their origin. They were to leave in much the same way by catching the outgoing train at daybreak. Edward wasn't sure it would work. His nostrils were flaring. The only humans on the train were the conductor in the front engine and the two security guards in the mail car—and yet they were a constant distraction as their scents pained his throat.

As she had been instructed, Charlotte had her cloak pulled low over her face and she was holding her breath. Her thoughts were a repetition of Jasper's words. _Don't get distracted. Don't get distracted. Focus on the floor beneath your toes. Focus on every breath you take. _Charlotte was repeating them in her head like a song, emphasizing focus, _enfocate_, focus, _enfocate _like it was the chorus line.

Edward was half-consciously humming along when he recognized the beat of her tune. It was the same as the little mariachi ditty that Peter had been singing the night before.

Edward decided to needle her a bit. "Peter's really nice," he said. He tried to keep his tone low and comforting. He didn't want to be obvious about it.

Regardless, Charlotte giggled. "He is," she agreed, and her scarlet eyes smiled up at him.

Edward shouldn't have expected a drawn out response. Charlotte was nervous and intent on the mission, on holding her breath—like she was supposed to be, but then again, Charlotte's thoughts were gentle when swept over the image of Peter. Edward discerned a memory or two, Peter giving her advice in the caverns or on the trail. The memories calmed her.

He'd ask again later, when she wasn't so on edge.

Outside, the wheels of the train creaked and then slowed in their chugs as the train began to climb one of the low mountains. Edward peered out again. They were coming upon the city.

He waited until the locomotive crested the summit and the rest of the trail of cars began to follow, much faster. As their car came up the top, Edward saw the metropolis in its entirety: the fossilized banks of the ancient lake Texcoco, the stinking sewage canals, the streets humming with human blood. Edward gripped Charlotte's arm, even as he knew from her thoughts that his caution was unnecessary. Like Edward, Charlotte was holding her breath. She wasn't focused on the city's great riches. She was too focused on who—or what—lurked beneath them.

They stayed silent until the train pushed out of the valley again and continued south.

It was an hour or so later when Edward whispered, "This is us," patting Charlotte's shoulder. She let go of his hand, and then he gripped the car door and pushed.

A burst of light flooded the three walls, and the beating wind swept over them as the train rumbled down, deeper and faster into the valley. They waited until the train was parallel with the ditch at the bottom, and then they leaped.

For the split second they were in the air, Edward watched the grey whirl of Charlotte's cloak in the sun, and then his palms were pressed into the soil. The wind flooding off the train swept over them, and he smelled clay, cactus, and vampire.

Wordlessly, they began their slither toward the twin mountains.

(o)(◌)(o)

The night before—after Jasper's revelation—Edward had been instructed in the technical aspects of the mission. Jasper had taken two fist-size rocks and positioned them along a strip of grass. Then he'd taken his stick and drawn lines showing the perimeter of the coven's stronghold, their known trails in and out of the ancient caverns, and the precise location of the "throne room," as Jasper had called it.

"How do you know all of this?" Edward had asked.

Jasper's mind was filled with Maria's crystalline face. Red eyes. Nails slicing microscopic ravines through the furniture varnish. "Maria used to live there," Jasper said at the same time that Edward caught the flash of anger in Jasper's memory.

Edward couldn't tell if the anger was from Jasper or Maria. He asked, "If she used to live there, why do we need to...?"

"It won't be the same. They wouldn't keep it the same. That was three centuries ago, give or take. We're mostly heading in blind."

"Then we could be walking into a trap?"

Jasper dropped his stick and caught Edward with a glare. "Thought you were already in a trap. Is another one going to make a difference?"

But it would. Edward was sure because he caught the thoughts before they left Jasper's mind.

_An image of a horseshoe flying through the air. The metal caught the stake, and it spun and spun and then it flew off. It thudded in the earth and sat still._

Edward had wanted to ask, but he hadn't. Millie had run into their circle, complaining that the clay had stained her dress.

(o)(◌)(o)

As Edward and Charlotte moved from the ditch to the outcropping of sandstone boulders, they caught the first heavy scent.

"A sentinel?" Charlotte whispered, lips almost touching his ear. Her voice was even, but Edward detected the almost shiver-like pulsating of her arms and legs.

They were both ready for anything.

"Not that fresh. Maybe from last night?"

"It came from the uphill," Charlotte whispered.

They both looked up. As the slope curled upwards, it leveled into what was a flat plain in full view of the sun. There would be no way they could ascend without being fully visible to anyone passing by—even a human would see them.

"Better to take the windward side. There's some brush to cover us. It'll take longer than the leeward side, and we'll track more smell, but if we move fast, we should be all right."

Charlotte nodded, even as she closed her eyes and took in a long draught of air. "The Tehuanos are picking up. They'll take our scent away from the mountain."

They moved in short bursts. Through the open patches, they waited until a passing cloud covered the sun—and then they moved to the next shelter. As they moved, they catalogued what they smelled, what they saw. It wasn't much. A mosaic of vampire, past and present. There were almost no animals.

Edward was trying to scan for thoughts, but it was difficult. Every new sound or smell on the wind distracted him—made him jump. Yet, he knew they had better find something soon. They couldn't come back to the coven with _nothing_.

Jasper had said he thought the main chamber was just beneath the top of the Iztaccíhuatl's _corona,_ but that no one knew for sure. Not even Maria. Even during Maria's time, Alvarado's coven had been tunneling deep into the magna. Planning a great system of mines. Not to mention the changes that would be brought on by earthquakes and time. Jasper said the mines could go anywhere now. "Into the sky," he'd muttered as he'd kicked the dirt.

Edward and Charlotte were near the end of the tree line. The tropical trees in the lower valley had long since been replaced by hardier alpine sisters. The ground had turned frozen, and spots of snow were visible in the sheltered corners of rock shelf.

The wind had also picked up, and a wash of scents lifted up from the entire valley below, but then there was the smack of the fresh flavor. It exploded in Edward's throat.

_Not vampire. Not vampire._

Edward was repeating the phrase to himself even as he had to lock his knees and grip his throat.

Worse. _Human_.

But Charlotte.

For Charlotte, it was too late. For she'd drawn a breath. Her nostrils had been sorting the smells—and it was as if she'd sunk her tongue into the trap.

She was running. Edward could see the square of her shoulders blur into a thin triangle as it shot up the mountain.

He called her name. "Charlotte!" but he was running too.

Up and up, and though he was fast—faster than Charlotte—he couldn't let himself go. If he did—he wouldn't be able to stop her—not with human blood ripe in her nostrils and stinging on her tongue. So he ran with as fast as his stone muscles would take him while still holding onto sanity in his mind.

As Charlotte disappeared with a leap up a steep bluff, Edward threw himself after her.

As he was airborne, he realized what was wrong.

There were no thoughts. No human thoughts. But how could there be fresh human blood without human thought unless...

He caught his footing two steps after Charlotte.

Before them, the whole word looked slanted: a jagged cairn tumbled toward them, flattening out so that it was stretched out like a table. In the center of a rock-altar, a doll-like figure was wrapped in strips of white. Beneath it poured out the source of the scent: a brilliant, fire-red pool of blood. It reflected in the sunlight.

Charlotte's cloak fell to her shoulders as she ran empty-handed toward the mirage. Her eyes searched as one gone mad.

Edward should have stopped. He shouldn't have tried to pull her back, but then again, perhaps he was half-mad too. Everything he touched seemed to morph and melt.

It was their combined weight that tripped the trap.

They both tried to leap even as the rock beneath their feet trembled, as an enormous crater seemed to swallow all in sight, as they fell into the black hell below.

(o)(◌)(o)

There was clay and dust and shards of glacier that crumbled like mold between his fingers. Edward could hear Charlotte thrashing and clawing just like he was.

He froze when the hand caught his wrist. A hand as cool as his own.

"_Alto__!_" a voice yelled, while another beside it corrected, "_No, Ines. __Hable en Inglés. Él no te entiende, especialmente con su pinche acento._"

"A'fine. _English_. _You_"—the voice was directed at Edward—"stop your thrashing. You e'stop, please and thanks, and we'll pull you out. If your _amigita __es_ cordial, then we'll pull her out, too." Ines's English was almost English-sounding.

Edward couldn't respond with words. There was rock and dirt pressed against his mouth, but he wasn't completely defenseless either. He searched the vampire's mind and didn't detect any intent to kill—so Edward spread his fingers wide by way of acknowledgement.

A moment later than dirt around him shifted and he was rolling across flat stones. When he looked up, hands mounted in defense, he saw two vampires standing over him, peering at him with an unsettling amount of calm.

"Well, he matches the description." A dark-featured vampire with thick coal-black brows was eying him up and down.

"You knew we were—" Edward stopped himself, realizing that there were more than just the two vampires in front of him. There were three vampires holding onto Charlotte. There were two more along the curve in the wall.

The thick-browed vampire snorted. "With your stomping, the whole mountain knew who you were."

But the other vampire was nodding. "Rico, he doesn't make a bad point," Ines said. "Did we _really _have to use the newborn trap for two measly newborns? I hate having to project for hours on end. Not to mention that those are a real pain to set up. _Las muñecas_ and the _sangre fresco_—what a total waste of..."

"_Ay, yay, yay_, stop your crabbing," Rico spat. "We're supposed to take this one to la Dona." He turned to give Edward a falsely bright smile. "She wants to meet you—why I don't know, so don't ask—and yes, normally you'd be dismembered by now."

"What about the friend?" Ines asked, pointing at the trembling Charlotte.

"Alvarado said to watch out for the males, and a small and blonde female. She is neither—so I have no idea. I suppose we should bring her along. Not to meet la Doña, but if you'd been listening, you'd know that any extras would be your charge. You're supposed to give her an image of pretty fairies and keep her occupied. The usual." Rico shrugged.

"I don't do 'pretty fairies.'" Ines bristled.

"Fine, give her something really 'scary' with slimy toadstools and croaking swamp bullfrogs, or you could be a _normal _vampire and get a few of the guys and just hold her down. Now, you"—he pointed a finger at Edward—"up on your feet and down that corridor, after me."

Edward obeyed. His mind was reeling from the sudden onslaught of all the new thoughts, all the new minds. It was enough to tempt him to shut them out, but he couldn't. He shouldn't. He needed his wits about him. He needed to be in control.

He followed in toe with Ines, Rico, Charlotte, and the other vampires.

(o)(◌)(o)

The "main chamber" as described by Jasper was nowhere near the surface of the _corona_. In fact, rather than continuing their upward journey, they descended so deep that Edward was sure they were lower than the base of the mountain. When the putrid sulfur smell assaulted his nostrils and he began to feel the heat beneath his feet, he realized they were almost close to the lava flows.

His fear was confirmed when he they crossed a bridge of iron rails and he saw the first white-red flow of lava. At these depths, the volcano could not be called "dormant."

Edward knew the main chamber when he saw it. The tunnel widened before breaking open on all sides, and lantern light was unnecessary because along the entire back of the chamber was a long narrow crevice. From the heat on his finger tips and the red flare, Edward was certain that there was live lava below.

In the center, perched on an obsidian rock, was a vampire that Edward knew at once. A long mane of shoulder-length black hair. An angular nose. A smile that seemed to envelope his whole face. Alvarado.

This was swiftly confirmed when Alvarado leaped upright, standing on the rock like a ringmaster atop the podium. "_Por fin_, he's here!" he yelled, pointing at Edward. Alvarado's eyes were bold and red, accentuated by thick brows. When Edward blanched, Alvarado just laughed before saying, "And he has no idea... no idea at all, of course."

At his side, Edward heard Ines's and Rico's thoughts spinning in confusion even as their false smiles pretended otherwise. Apparently, it was normal for Alvarado to say nonsensical things. But his excitement about Edward—that wasn't normal.

"Ay, and you're all tongue tied. Bueno, I'll begin the introductions. After all, it is my house. I am host. Hosts do such things. I'm Alvarado de Celtiberia"—he laughed inexplicably before continuing—"I am the conqueror of Mexico, I am the Great Seer, and I am your host—because my wife says so." He laughed again, even more confusingly, because his thoughts were a mess of foreign landscapes and ancient battles in forgotten language—and Edward couldn't make heads or tails of any of it.

When Alvarado looked expectantly at him, Edward answered, "I'm Edward Masen, and this is Charlotte."

Alvarado didn't spare Charlotte a glance but smiled at Edward like a benevolent uncle. "Oh, good. A name. She'll like that, even if your eyes have darkened up."

"My eyes—she...?"

"Yes. Isabel, my wife, she is impatient to meet you."

"What do you want from me?"

"Me?" Alvarado looked taken aback. "I don't want anything. Isabel on the other hand..." Alvarado frowned before looking over his shoulder. "Well, no reason to waste words. Come along." He beckoned Edward forward. As Edward began his reluctant approach, Alvarado said to Ines, "Watch Miss Charlotte—not that she'll be any trouble—but nevertheless, give her a tour. Or something. Rico, please accompany Edward and myself to see Dona Isabel."

It was all very absurd, but Alvarado gave another impatient wave of his arm, and Edward fell in step behind him, with Rico matching his every step. They walked behind the low wall that marked the back of the chamber and then descended down a long spiral stair. They were near an arched opening at the bottom when Edward clutched his head.

_Something was wrong._

_Something was very wrong._

Only to have his own thoughts echo back and then subvert and become...

_Depends on your definition of "wrong."_

But it wasn't his thought. It was _her _thought.

Because they were through the arch. Around them, bare rock walls vanished and oak paneling and tall shelves took their place. The room was a library, and seated at a desk in the center, surrounded by piles of books, was Isabel, a tall, mahogany-haired vampire. She was smirking at him as the thought entered his head. _Nice to finally meet you, Edward._

"You're..." Edward blinked in shock. …_a telepath—like me._

"Rico, leave us now," Alvarado commanded.

A mental projection came to him. Isabel with a finger over her mouth, and then, the directed thought: _It's a secret. Don't say it aloud,_ Isabel's thought insisted.

Edward's head was spinning. He couldn't separate one thought from the next, and yet the two vampires in front of him were watching him with fond amusement, like this was some long-running inside joke between the two of them—but then Edward blinked again—because he hadn't noticed at first—but now it was impossible not to.

Isabel's eyes were yellow.

His thought earned him a laugh. "I prefer the term 'amber.' Yellow is far too happy of a color; even when one must partake of the local fauna, it's still death,'" Isabel corrected aloud, and then she arose from her desk and walked to seat herself upon a dark green couch. She patted the seat next to her. "Sit, Edward. We have much to discuss, for I have spent my centuries in chaos, and I know how you must feel, so newly changed as you are."

Her thoughts were absent of any ill-content—if anything, they were curious and rather fond, so with a slow slide onto the cushion, Edward did as the lady asked.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Twilight, lubbs.

Thank yous to **katinki **and **ellecc**.

Like I said before, I bring two chapters! This is how I beg forgiveness. With gifts.

* * *

**Chapter 10:**

_All men are children, and of one family.  
__The same tale sends them all to bed, and wakes them in the morning._

—Henry David Thoreau

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward had lost track of time.

When he had sat down on the cushion, his every movement had felt chastened by the gaze of the amber-eyed queen. Her eyes moved with her thoughts, and it made Edward look away. She knew his every reaction, as he knew hers. Since there was nothing to be done about it, Edward sat with a rigid back and hands crossed politely in his lap.

He had to make himself not flinch when Isabel took up his hand. She was gentle, trailing her fingers down the columns of bones that led to the tips of his fingers. _How were you changed?_ was her first question.

"There was the Spanish Influenza. I was one of the sick," he started to explain, but Isabel stopped him.

She pressed the pad of finger to his lips and shook her head. _There is no reason to speak with tools as weak as words. Show me, if you would._

_Words are weak but comforting,_ he thought, and then eyed her in annoyance, as he knew she'd heard that.

She smiled at him. _Go on, _she urged.

He did as he was told. He opened his mind to her, wrestling with the memories of Carlisle, the too-sweet stench of ether and pus, the flames, and his hands ripping sod from the earth as he recognized the end of his humanity, the deaths of his family. He remembered and remembered until he could mold his thoughts in a way that gave them shape.

Isabel listened with a frozen expression, even as her thoughts flowed in sync with his. When he finished answering her question, she did the total opposite of what he'd expected. Instead of asking him another question, instead of demanding more of him, she began her own tale:

_I descend the back steps of my father's house at dusk. The man is there again, curled like a vine against the stone arbor. I wonder again if he's a servant—he's dressed like one, but though his front pocket is tattered, he doesn't stink of ash, wax, or a barn. He smells... like honey and tea leaves—or citrus—or— well, I can't be sure. I was never the type to stick my nose in flowers. _

_I look at him again, and my fore-night's conclusion dies in its own ridicule when I try to plaster it to the flesh and blood evidence. My nightly visitor is far too handsome, too regal, too _everything _to be one of lesser rank. More so, when he speaks, his words are fine, as distinguished as those of my great-uncle. I whisper to him in my own language: "Sir, for whom do you wait?"_

_"A star," he breathes back in the eastern tongue, and I immediately cross my arms as I fear another riddle from him. He likes his riddles. It's as if he's an ancient God bored with the heavens and thus amusing himself by testing the wits of simpler mortals. For my part, I plan on passing the test. _

_"A shooting star?" I question._

_"I have tracked her across many an age, searched her out throughout the skies and heavens. She has yet to fly, and I await her light."_

_I have to force down a smile. "Sir, you speak in riddles. I would beg a question in turn."_

_"You may, but you need not beg. I'd give you the light of the moon, should you but ask."_

_My cheeks color, and I look down. I hope he thinks me demure as my words are so otherwise. "From where do you come? Are you a lord?" I ask and look up to witness his reaction._

_His mouth is closed, his lips pressed together. He looks like he wants to laugh but is trying not to. "I used to be," he says._

_This confession floors me. The mystery begins to make sense. I ask, "Did war take your family? Or were you...?" _Exiled _is what I want to say, but I stop myself. It would be rudeness to remind him of such a sentence, even if he lives it._

_The man snorts and stretches his arms high above him, such that his torso is long and extended, and I must avert my gaze. He says, "Don't look at me so, like I require pity. I lack nothing—well, almost nothing. I'm missing a fellow star, as I said."_

_I have nothing to say to that. His words are neither those of simple mortals nor the sane of mind. I suspect my discomfort is plain to him._

_He takes a step toward me. His proximity makes the hairs on my arms stand on end, and yet, I cannot look away from his eyes—his wine-burnt lips."If you could live forever, like a star, would you?" he asks._

_"I don't know."_

_"If you could have everything you ever wanted, would you take the leap?" he asks._

_"What's the price?" I whisper. His breath is on my lips. I can't breathe._

_"To forget," he says. "To forget to breathe," he says, and then he laughs, taking a step back and smiling at me, like I've answered some impossible hope of his. His eyes are so bright they seem to reflect the crimson of the sunset. "Someday," he says, "we shall fly together. Would you like that?" He steps forward again, his hands grip the wall on either side of me. Our noses are almost touching._

_I don't respond. I cannot. My limbs are shaking, my mouth is dry; hands, slick and sliding down the wall stone I try to grip. Something momentous is about to happen. _

_But when I open my eyes he is gone. _

_I search the garden in a panic. I call out—and that's when I realize I don't even know his name. I am horrified when I feel the tears on my cheeks. I don't know why I feel this way. I can't explain it. I start to cry and I can't stop._

_Maria Elena taps me awake some hours later. I am slumped along the stone wall. Twigs are stuck in my hair. My eyes are swollen, and yet, there is something pressed in my palm. A note._

Be patient and don't forget_, it reads._

_When I awoke—truly—it was a year later. Not only was I an inch taller, a woman, but red seeped from my smile as a constant. The morning light would strike my stone flesh through the bows of the juniper forest, and I shone like a prism. My mysterious maker had become the mate, whose every ounce of flesh I knew. I would live forever until the fires took the grains of my flesh. _

_There was only one catch. My love said I would forget. He'd promised. He said my humanity would wash away like soot. The memory of an afternoon shadow. Like a spare thought._

_It did not._

Edward asked aloud, "Alvarado?" because the man was no longer in the room—and there was unevenness in Edward's mind, a mud-thick layer of sod dense beneath boundless galaxy.

"Yes," she said: _It wasn't anything but wonderful when I was first born. I hunted, drank, and made love to my mate. I was savage, spoiled and petted, and I knew nothing else, for my body reigned as a bonfire while my conscience flickered as the weakest candle._

_You didn't know?_ Edward asked in surprise. _About your power?_

_I did, but it wasn't so important. My beginnings were so different from yours. I practiced no temperance. _She picked a quill off the table and twirled it between her fingers. _I was about your age—a hair over six months when it became a problem._

_The mind reading? _Edward pressed her.

"Yes," she said, tossing the quill onto the desk. _There was a family. A lesser lord's hold along the coast. I wasn't as thirsty—which is to say, I was always thirsty, but I was beginning to feel the first signs of control. _

_The family was like yours—your human family? _Edward asked.

_Yes and no. We climbed the tower window, and Alvarado went for the Lord, and I, for the Lady. I had her bent beneath me, I was running my finger along her neck, finding the perfect spot, forcing myself to wait if only to make the pleasure more satisfying—when I heard her thoughts—and they stopped me._

_A baby,_ Edward answered. The Lady in Isabel's thoughts was pale and lovely, with deep brown eyes and a long neck that opened to swollen breasts—and yet, there was the tug in Isabel's memory: _no—I must care for my child..._ at primal war with the circuitry of honey-blood.

_I succumbed, _Isabel carried on. _I drank from the mother, Alvarado drank from the father and the son was left to be fed by a nursemaid and raised by stewards. That distant wail from the nursery haunted me afterwards. It was the beginning of my doubts._

_Which is why your eyes are now amber,_ Edward confirmed.

_It was the first dot,_ she said, and picked up her quill again, and she stabbed the edge onto an open scroll of parchment. She held it up to him, even as the slash of ink was still wet as it soaked into the threads. "Are you familiar," she asked, "with that game, connect the dots?"

"I am."

"That is what I wish to teach you."

Edward had to force down his irritation. "How to draw from _dots_?"

_No_, she shook her head as she marked another dot on the paper, and then another. _I wish to teach you how to control your power, how to be free of it, and how to use it as a tool. I wish to teach you what I wish someone would have taught me, so long ago. I wish someone would have kept me from trying to forget. The point, after all, is to remember._

_You sound like Carlisle, _Edward told her.

_I'll take that as a compliment. He seems lovely—nice eyes, an excellent mind, a heart of gold, an old Brit, and a doctor. The fact that he could gain so much control, it's extraordinary._

Edward didn't try to play down her compliments, but he didn't feel a need to comment on them either. He had the sense, through the tilt of Isabel's thoughts that she was fishing. _What do you really want to know?_ Edward asked.

"Who is he, the one who draws you from your maker?" Isabel asked in a light voice.

Edward blanched because there was no way around it. Jasper's face swam to the forefront of his mind.

Isabel scrubbed her hands as if she could not be more delighted with the revelation. "Jasper," she said aloud with her head tilted to the side and her lips moving slowly, as if testing the feel of the name on her lips. "It's the name of a speckled stone. It's usually a brilliant red, but is also found in more tame colors, sandy gold or a jade green. More rarely, in a blue. Alvarado used to have a snuff box made of a red variety of the stone."

"A snuff box?" Edward gave her a look of disbelief. "He's a vampire. Why'd he have a _snuff _box?"

"Interesting question," Isabel said, and she stood, walking to the book shelves that lined the walls and trailing her finger tips along the spines. "Vampires don't need to breathe. We don't need to sit. We don't need to read. We don't need to play games or wear clothing or even follow a basic moral code. Really, we're nigh unstoppable—and yet, we hide from humans."

"It makes the hunting more fun," Edward said through a false, mocking smile.

Isabel nodded. "A newborn's reasoning, but for the older among us, I think there's a different reason. It's the reason we have snuff boxes and fancy clothing and feel the need to partake of fine music. You've heard enough of our kind's thoughts. Why do you think we act so _human_?"

"I'm not very good at reading our kinds thoughts, especially newborns. When I'm in a group with them, the force of their anger—the heavy sways of their moods—it's like I enter their minds only to find my own thoughts being hunted."

"Still, you must have felt it."

"Felt what?"

"The jealousy."

"Of humans?"

"Yes."

"I mostly just feel predatory tendencies, to be honest."

Isabel laughed, and then she laced her fingers, looking as nosy and girlish as her thoughts were. "So tell me about this Jasper."

"There's not much to say."

"I think there is," she said, and her head tilted to the side again, and Edward realized she was listening outside of their small circle.

"Who are you listening to?" he asked.

"Alvarado."

"Oh."

"You'd be interested in his message. It's about your Jasper, you see."

Edward snapped forward in his chair. "What about him?"

Isabel laughed. "Oh, don't worry. He'll be perfectly safe."

The images in her head were swirling: Millie with a rose in her teeth, beating her chest like a war-readied barbarian, before stopping to experimentally tap her left nipple. It would seem she'd smacked too hard. Or something. Peter with clay on his nose—eyes, messianic and maddened with destiny. Jasper standing before the silver-black cairn, head held high as he sniffed the air. Purpose in every action.

"What are they doing?" Edward asked, more than slightly taken back. He recognized the cairn—it was where he and Charlotte had been captured.

"Coming to _rescue _you," Isabel burst out, obviously having lost any patience with Edward's deductions.

"But—"

"But nothing. Alvarado won't harm them. I knew this would happen. We've already discussed it. The rooks and bishops and knights are all set out to orchestrate the day."

"But—

"But nothing," Isabel said, "your _Jasper _has come for you." She grabbed his hand and hauled him upright.

In the next second, they were both out the door.

(o)(◌)(o)

Being rescued was not all that interesting. For starters, it involved a lot of waiting. Being as Edward was permanently frozen as a seventeen-year-old male, he was more than a little positive that even with accounting for the bloodthirstiness, all seventeen-year-old males hated waiting. Edward did.

"Shouldn't you tie me up or something? Make it more dramatic?" Edward offered.

Isabel seemed to consider this proposition, but Alvarado laughed. "Tie you up? Like a damsel? And that wouldn't give it away? What are we supposed to use to keep you? Cables made of _diamante__?_ Maybe we should surround you with a flood of lava?"

"I don't like lava..." Edward corrected, speculatively eying the neon flows that lined the edge of the main chamber.

Alvarado laughed gaily, but Isabel was still taking Edward's question seriously. "Darling," she began, turning to Alvarado, "Where's the girl? The baby vampire?"

"Charlotte?" Edward clarified.

"Yes!" Isabel nodded. "Charlotte, such a lovely heart-shaped face. Where is she, _mi vida__?_" she asked Alvarado.

"Ines was watching her," Alvarado said.

"Ines?" Isabel asked in alarm.

"Yes, I requested fairies and butterflies or some manner of lolly-gaggeltry," Alvarado replied with a prim flick of the wrist. He was worried about upsetting Isabel. He should have been clearer with Ines. Ines was so easily distracted. Changed too young, definitely.

"Send for him," Isabel commanded, "and have him bring the girl."

Alvarado did not need to speak. His wife's command was his. The guards at the openings of the tunnels rushed the message forward.

(o)(◌)(o)

Charlotte was unharmed. It was apparent from her thoughts that the mirage had given her the impression she'd spent the day lost in a forest, and upon entering the chamber, she seemed taken aback by the immediate change of scenery from grays, browns and greens to the igneous blacks and lava reds of their chamber. While Ines had not provided fairies and butterflies, the forest had been beautiful, if Edward's survey of Charlotte's mind was accurate.

_Edward_, Isabel called him from across the room.

_Yes, Isabel,_ he answered.

_Do you like Ines's visions?_

_They're not so bad._

_What about his thoughts? _she asked.

_His thoughts are his vi—_he began—but then he stopped himself, because Isabel was right. Ines was imagining the forest, but the forest was...

_Push your mind deeper,_ Isabel insisted, and it was as if her mind was guiding Edward's. She was imagining herself in Ines's forest. The smoky morning was blanketed by moss and framed by tall pines—but then Isabel walked up to the nearest tree and put her hand against a knot in the wood and then—straight through it. That's when Edward saw. It was like a mirror. You had to look behind it: see the tree and the forest from Ines's youth. How Ines remembered the slumped hill outside his home and how he was now applying it to the cavern.

_Very good,_ Isabel praised him.

_I've never done that before—his power is..._

_Strong, _Isabel agreed, _but not as strong as others. Now, Alvarado's mind, what do you see?_

Edward honed in on Alvarado's mind with hesitation. He had gathered from Isabel's stories that Alvarado had a power. Something that Isabel could sense with ease, and something that made Alvarado powerful, powerful enough to hold the leadership of the Mexican empire.

The first thought that Edward sensed from Alvarado was not in words, but in pictures. _Jasper_. Edward almost gasped. He looked in Isabel's direction. _What?_ he began.

_You haven't connected the dots, yet, Edward. Don't jump to conclusions._

Edward focused in again. _Jasper was arguing with Peter. There was no sound, just a picture, but Edward watched their lips move, and he could discern the words. They were arguing, Jasper saying, "We can't just jackhammer our way into a dormant volcano," and Peter saying, "Time is running faster than a jackrabbit—and if we keep sitting around here like fat, old tortoises—Charlotte is—Charlotte and Edward are going to mincemeat on the lava stones."_

No sooner had Peter's lips stopped moving than the scene seemed to fade, and Alvarado's own thought seemed to echo like the wind above the scene. _ I hope she enjoys this._ Edward was certain he thinking about Isabel. The shadowed profile of her face seemed to fill his mind.

Edward brought his mind back to Isabel's. _He can see—anywhere. Can't he?_

Isabel gave him a curt nod, but her thoughts gave away her delight. _Yes. He can see the farthest, and I can see through what is nearest. We call his power "scrying." Of course, there are many names for what you and I can do. _

_That's how you've kept the empire, _Edward thought, mostly to himself, but Isabel answered his thought.

_I help him now—but it's not life's goal. Alvarado has always managed well enough by himself. _

Edward remembered the story that Jasper had told him. How Alvarado had come to conquer Mexico and Isabel had refused. He tried not to, but he wondered about Maria.

Isabel's thoughts flared. _Maria—_she started, and then she drew a breath. _Maria, the conquest, Mexico—they were part of conflict that had been brewing between Alvarado and me since my making. I was determined to change my life. I wanted to break myself of my attachment to human blood, while Alvarado wanted to create a name for himself. He was sick of Italy. He wanted nothing to do with Romania. He wanted to leave. A new age was dawning, and he wanted to ride in to the colonies amid the Era of Enlightenment. I wanted to stay. It was a conflict that we could not resolve together. We needed time apart, _she told Edward, but in the background of her mind was the replay of a terrible fight: blame being thrown, bites to the neck and nails scratching across a stone cheek, and then the slam of the door. Isabel running, running. Alvarado turning toward his western march with eyes that seemed redder than blood.

_So, you stayed in Spain and he came here?_

_Yes. I spent a decade gaining my self control. I began to live as a human. As best as I could. Alvarado took Maria as his salve—she is my opposite in so many ways, after all, and I took mine in watching the red stain in my irises begin to disappear, in baking cakes for my neighbors, and attending nighttime dances. I found peace._

_And yet you went back?_

_I missed him_, she said, and her eyes were on her mate, a loose smile tugging at her lips.

_And you forgave him? Even with Maria?_

_Yes_, _which is not to say I didn't make him grovel, or that everything was some foregone conclusion of paradise, but he was—is—my mate. _

_Maria hates you. She thinks she's the one._

From her seat, Isabel coughed into her hand. She was hiding a snort. _She hates everything. _

Alvarado, however, was eying his wife. _Everything all right, mi vida?_

She gave him the subtlest of nods, before turning back to Edward. _You're confused about her and your Jasper._

_No, _Edward growled the thought at her, because in his head were the images: Maria with her legs spread wide. Mazatl's threat. Jasper's lips mashed against Edward's and the way he forced Edward against the wall. Millie's knowing looks. Maria's little game: who's the spy?

_You know, _Isabel said, _neither Jasper nor the little succubus is the spy._

"Wh—?" Edward almost hissed aloud, and the entire room was looking at him. He covered by asking, "When—how long 'til they arrive?"

Alvarado shrugged. "The skinny one is doing some strange dance on the upside of the mountain. I think he's trying to confuse the trail."

"Or act as a decoy," Isabel offered in an almost bored tone. "Consider that we'd normally never let anyone get so close or make so much racket on our territory, and well, the skinny one—Peter—is being so loud, that he might as well be wearing a charro suit and serenading our front window."

Alvarado nodded. "Agreed." He turned to the guards. "Go chase him around the mountain. Don't hurt him though." He winked at Edward. "He's a friend of Isabel's 'nephew'"—Alvarado made air quotes—"not to mention that he's sure to be part of the evening's entertainment."

The guards were off, and no sooner had their footfalls faded into a soft beat when Alvarado asked Isabel, "So what about the set up in the room? You want to suspend him? We do have some decent ropes, not _diamante_ but..."

"I have an idea," Isabel said, her index finger tapping her chin as she scanned over Edward.

Edward saw the winding of her thoughts, enough to emit a growl in her direction.

She ignored the growl and waved at Ines. "Come, come, you'll enjoy it. Now, we need to get Edward readied. There isn't much time."

(o)(◌)(o)

There was no real lava pit.

Well, not exactly. There was a ravine about fifteen feet back from where Edward and Charlotte were hung, suspended on a creaking rope. At the bottom of the ravine, there was some black magma. There was, however, a _fake _lave pit, extended by Ines's powers. The vampire had also used his talent of illusion to throw in rope and fake blood for good measure.

Poor Charlotte was strapped to Edward back. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but was increasingly distracted by the mirage of boiling blood lining the edge of the lava embankment as well as the popping sizzle of the red lava below. The fact that it had no smell but looked down-to-the-cell-membrane like blood was confusing the newborn girl.

"It's not hot, and no smell," Charlotte said in confusion, kicking her feet around below them.

"That's because it's not lava. Like how today there was no forest."

"I knew it wasn't real, but it seemed like it should be," Charlotte complained in a soft voice. "There was nothing to drink," she paused, "although, there were some nice mountains. I just could never reach them because they weren't there... just shadows of thoughts."

"Hmmm," Edward replied. He wasn't in the mood for small talk or contemplating fake forests. Through the images, he could sense Alvarado, Ines, and Isabel. Although, without Isabel's help he was having a harder time seeing behind their thoughts—hearing through the illusions.

But he was certain that Jasper was coming. He knew by the growing anticipation that seemed to be coming from Isabel, and by Alvarado's increasing spew of orders. Apparently, Peter was being difficult. He'd run up the wrong mountain. His pursuers had to corral him back in the right direction. A llama had been involved—or an alpaca. Edward wasn't exactly sure, but the creature had a neck much longer than a typical goat's.

Jasper was headed directly for them. He had taken the lower tunnels, following their trail by instinct—and probably using some element of his talent. Edward half-wondered if Jasper could feel their emotions centered in the room.

"I don't trust them," Charlotte said, eying through the air, like she might be able to discern their hosts by tremendous squinting.

"They mean us no harm."

"You mean they mean _you _no harm. The pale wife likes you. They don't care about me. I'm collateral. Just like Peter—and Jasper and Millie."

"You're not collateral," Edward corrected her, even as his own thoughts went in another direction, for Charlotte did have a point. If Isabel hadn't intervened, they probably would have all been executed as pawns of Maria's. Peter and Charlotte, first. Jasper, if they could catch him. Mille—

Where was Millie?

Edward calmed himself, focusing on the minds around him. Isabel's attention was caught by Jasper. She found his mind... a puzzle, it would seem. Alvarado was also focused on Jasper—and Peter. Jasper was getting closer. Peter, too, was closing in. The guards had managed to chase him into one of the lower tunnel routes, and he was running... But Millie, why was no one focused on Millie?

Edward cast his mind out, searching. At the top of the mountain, she had seemed to fade away from Alvarado's vision in her typical way, fluffing her hair and plopping down on the ground with her dress in a perfect hoop around her. She'd picked up a flat piece of graphite and tried to see her reflection in it, and then, it was like she'd faded away, like she was a child that had finally occupied itself after a day of tantrums, and every adult in proximity was happy to see her collapse into a nap.

But that wasn't Millie. She didn't nap.

At least, not that way.

Edward searched above first. He followed the main tunnel circuit, moving from the chamber to upper reaches of the mountain, flitting from mind to mind—even as it seemed to make his brain itch. His first loop offered nothing. He went again, this time searching the western loop. Nothing.

He was about to give up. Millie had probably decided to molest the local villagers—when he felt the trip in the back of his mind.

Behind him. In Isabel's library. At the bottom of the stairs, down the tunnel, he felt the churning of a familiar, fickle mind.

Millie was sitting on a stool, spinning herself right, then left, looking as bored and ill-tempered as Edward had ever seen her. Her eyes were scanning the book titles, spines made from dusty hide and painted parchment: Cervantes, Azuela, Kepler, Plato, Voltaire and even Netzahualcoyotl filled the shelves.

Millie was very disappointed. _No pictures. And no Carlisle to read the words aloud and explain what the long ones with too many consonants meant._ She gave another push on the stool and spun as she took in the room. _For so much power, the capital vampires seemed awfully stuffy. Maybe, she should draw something. _She studied the quill before deciding she didn't want to risk any ink on her hands.

She rubbed at her eyes in frustration. _Jasper had better hurry up._

"Jasper must be close," Charlotte whispered, and her comment brought Edward back to their present environment.

Alvarado issued an order. "Be at the ready."

Edward could almost sense Jasper's mind himself. He was near, very near.

Edward was tense, at the ready—and like everyone in the room, watching the main entry.

That was, until there was a crunch of rock.

They all looked up, just as the dust and rocks began to rain down, along with a battle cry came from above.

Peter, followed by a rather annoyed group of guards, burst from a newly formed hole in the upper chamber. Rocks fell. Vampires fell. There was coughing dust and a rumble of the walls. Peter seem unfazed, his arms waving as he fell into the impossibly matched fight.

"Seize him!" Alvarado cried with obvious delight and enthusiasm. This was so much better than the leader had ever expected...

The guards immediately leaped at Peter, though the clouded air and falling debris made it more difficult to get a hold on. Also, Peter fought without any real skill—but rather pin-wheeled his arms like propellers and spun and kicked with mad passion. He managed to take out two guards.

But then he looked up. He saw Charlotte and Edward, and, "_Viva el Amor_!" he trumpeted with a shake of a fist, and then he batted a guard into the wall.

Edward would have almost missed Millie—everyone else did with Peter's spectacle—except that he caught the flash of fabric in the corner of his eye.

Peter was still lost in the fray, two guards had managed to secure each of his arms, but he was still bucking up and down from his hips and kicking wildly, screaming "Charlotte! Charlotte! I'll save you yet, my love!" which had the effect of making Charlotte giggle hysterically into her elbow.

Millie, however, was not leaping to save them. Instead, she was crouched behind her rock, looking at Peter in a full state of disgust, while keeping a half-eye on the main entrance.

And then Jasper was there.

For a split-second, Edward believed that Jasper was a part of the illusion. Edward saw him like a storm front moving across the room. There was darkness overhead, guards closing in, and Peter squalling in the center of the chamber. Jasper was bright in Edward's eyes. Golden-haired and white despite the red flames of the room.

Guards moved at him. Jasper ducked and dodged, and it would have seemed impossible, except that Edward knew that Jasper was using his power in perfect harmony with his attack. All Jasper needed to do was cause a moment of hesitation here, a jerk of impulsiveness there—and Jasper controlled the guards that came at him. He choreographed the fight around him. Even when Edward had watched Jasper scrimmage with the other newborns, it wasn't like this: daggered grace with a vulpine smile.

Still, Edward didn't expect it to last. The numbers were all against it. In the far corner of the room, the guards had finally tackled Peter, managing to pin all of his flailing limbs. So, when Jasper broke away, and he made his sudden leap, Edward expected at least three guards to block him.

But he'd forgotten about Millie.

Millie shot out from her hiding spot. The guards were soaring in the air—they were angling to block Jasper—but Millie just touched them, her hands making little x's and o's as they found the skin of each guard, and with each touch, the guards dropped like flies, as if they'd been frozen.

The guards fell away, and then Jasper was soaring toward Edward and Charlotte. His fingers caught the rope, and the force of his added weight caused all of them to swing toward the wall. Below them, the sizzling lava pool seemed to draw even closer.

It's not real, Edward reminded himself.

But then the rope creaked.

Jasper's fingers were moving fast. He had one hand clutched on the rope above them and the other working on Charlotte's ropes. He bent to whisper in her ear, and then there was another grind of the rope and a shift. The strands were breaking.

"Jasper," Edward said, "it isn't what you think."

"I know," Jasper answered, and then he said, "Now!" to Charlotte.

Charlotte jumped with the arc of the rope. She jumped away from the fray below and toward the open tunnel.

She made it, but the rope—the rope jerked and Jasper slipped—and Edward tried to warn him. They were on the wrong side of the room. They were too close to the chasm and Edward couldn't see...

There was a snap.

The rope. They were falling.

Jasper looked into Edward's eyes. He still thought the lava was real.

The lava wasn't. They passed right through the mirage.

But then they kept falling.

The lava was fake, but the ravine in the back of the chamber was as real as death.

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward had to reorient himself. The world was spinning. He and Jasper were spinning as they barreled down the ravine. Edward could feel the rising heat as they fell closer and closer to the volcanic floor. He angled them—tried to change their bodies to shift against the updrafts.

They seemed to be moving closer to the wall.

The wall was in reach. Edward's hands were touching the stone.

Then the collision. Stone meeting stone, and Edward's fingers were burning as they dug like claws into the wall, trying to find traction.

But then he lost the wall.

Only to find it again.

Jasper had a grip on a rock. Unlike the black stone Edward had sunk his hands into, Jasper was holding on to a long shard of quartz jutting out of the rock. It looked comparatively sturdy.

"You got it?" Edward asked.

"We need to climb," Jasper said, his eyes closed and his whole chest heaving, even though there was no real need for him to be breathing.

"I think there might be a ledge up," Edward pointed, the rock seemed to curve out above them.

Jasper began climbing, using the wall for support when he could, and digging in with his fingers when the stone grew too smooth. Edward followed with caution. Jasper's mind was impossible to read—his emotions were so overpowering: relief, shock, fear, and also... determination.

When Jasper reached the ledge, he swung a leg over, and called back, "This'll work." His head appeared back over the side again, an almost stern look on his dusty face as he looked down at Edward. He didn't ask or say a word, but Edward knew.

Edward knew because his whole body seemed to explode. If someone had told him in that second the volcano had erupted—Edward would have believed him, because Jasper yanked Edward up on the ledge. Edward tried to right himself, but Jasper prevented it. He half-yelped as Jasper grabbed his jaw, but then Jasper was looking into his eyes—even as Edward knew he was searching much, much deeper.

Edward's mouth was open and dry for one blasted second, and then in the next, it wasn't.

Because Jasper was kissing him for all he was worth.

(o)(◌)(o)


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: To disclaim is to bear the shame of using another's brain to choose the names and characters and whatnot. blah. blah. blah. I claim ownership of nothing.

A/N: And we're picking up speed! Um, I now know exactly where I want this story to go, with no more hemming and hawing on my part (some times you really just need to write it out to let the weave shine), and anyway, we're nearing the homestretch-meaning action (of all various kinds and ratings). Thank you to all of you lovelies for reading and reviewing. It warms my heart.

And of course, to the lovely Ellecc for beta'ing and Katinki for pointing out when Jasper's puns are bunk. Lol. *hugs*

* * *

(o)(◌)(o)

**"When I want to know anything from you, I'll tell you, you long-legged son of a—"  
"If you want to call me that, smile."  
"With a gun against my belly, I-I always smile."**  
_The Virginian (1929) _

(o)(◌)(o)

It was like someone had pulled the trigger. One of Jasper's hands plugged his shoulder to the floor and the other was on his neck, the thorny press of thumbnail against his Adam's apple. In Edward's vision, there was Jasper, halo-white despite the coal-black backdrop of the inferno. His mouth was suspended over Edward's for a second, and then it was as if the lines that defined him melted like ink in water.

A mouth on his. No sound. Only touch, teeth nicking at his bottom lip, fingers clawing at his hip. Taste. The slick twist of venom that stung in the back of his throat. The lap of a tongue against his. In some echo in his mind, Edward knew his shirt was ripping as Jasper pushed him back against the cliff wall. His heels were failing to gain traction as every breath was stolen before he could find his footing.

It was some moments later that Edward got his first grasp of reality. Jasper left his mouth for his neck, and Edward's took his first draught of sulfured air, one gasp and the time and place and the person—_Jasper_, holy fuck—set in on him.

"Jasper, mother of—" Edward sputtered, "stop." His eyes flew open. There was an entire coven of vampires above them. There was Peter and Charlotte and Millie, not to mention the mental prying that would come from Isabel. Edward brought his hands up to pull at Jasper's—but Jasper smacked them away. Jasper kissed Edward even harder, with his whole body, with knees pushing into his thighs and elbows caging him. It felt—like punishment. Edward liked it. He shouldn't. He did.

But still, Edward pushed back. He pushed back because the fury was building in his chest. Because he wasn't here to be rescued. He wasn't some fucking damsel who needed to be awoken with a rose, a bloody sword, and a kiss. Two days ago, Jasper had been fucking Maria.

He jerked his hand out and slapped Jasper.

The slap didn't have the intended effect. Jasper absorbed the strike, moving into Edward's palm rather than away from it, and then Jasper was holding Edward's hand on his cheek and just looking at Edward, breathing in and out with long gasps.

Jasper had soot in his blond hair, on the tips of his eyelashes. The laces of his shirt were completely ripped out, and Edward could see the start of the long scar just behind the knob of his collar bone. Looking at him, Edward wished that Jasper's eyes weren't red. He wished that Jasper couldn't know Edward's emotions. Edward wished he didn't find Jasper so stupidly beautiful.

Jasper was looking right back him, still holding Edward's palm over his cheek and waiting.

Edward tried making out Jasper's thoughts. He tried to center himself and discern Jasper's mind from the insanity of his own. It wasn't working. Shaking his head as if he could clear out his head, Edward asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" Jasper let go of Edward's hand.

"Why'd you come?"

Jasper's lips curled into a wry smile. "I missed you."

That stopped Edward. He'd expected some retort, like "Peter drank mole-rat and couldn't be stopped," "Millie ran out of nursery rhymes," or "Maria would have had my neck otherwise." Instead, Jasper was looking at Edward with dead seriousness, and it was galling. It was enough to make Edward want to hide his eyes or jump off the cliff again—because somehow that seemed more bearable than the pressure of this moment.

"I don't understand," Edward said.

Jasper cocked his head to side, his tongue pressed into his cheek. "You're always stumped about something."

Edward glared at him.

Jasper threw his head back and laughed, but then he shook his head. He leaned back from Edward, his top teeth pressed into his bottom lip, and said, "Stop your bosh. You keep acting you're lost between the grass and the hay. Well, cut the act. You say you're sick of being tossed around. Well, make a fucking a decision."

"I'm not pretending."

"Then making a decision shouldn't be so hard."

"Fine, we climb out," Edward said.

Jasper laughed, except this time it was bitter. "So _running_ it is..."

Edward suppressed the urge to hit Jasper again. "I'm not running. We're precariously close to an unstable volcano stream, and I'd rather not hang around to be vamp soup."

Jasper ignored his sarcasm. "I know what you feel when you look at me."

"Anger. Annoyance," Edward spit.

"And...?" Jasper cocked a brow.

Edward closed his eyes and ground his teeth. He really, really wanted to knock the knowing smile off Jasper's face. "Hate. I feel _hate_."

"Good, I feel that, too."

"You don't—" Jasper's thoughts—though a maelstrom—could not be described as hate.

"I don't," Jasper agreed. "Just like you don't."

Edward pressed his head back against the rock, anything to get farther away from Jasper. "Why does it always have to be like this?"

"Do elaborate," Jasper drawled.

"You're hot and cold with me."

"Well, we were in a dank ole cavern in Monterrey, but _this rock_"—Jasper patted the stone—"is 'bout as hot as a whorehouse on nickel night. So if you're—"

"Stop it."

"I already said what I meant."

"You missed me?" Edward spit the words at him.

"Yes," Jasper said, and his voice got soft. Impossibly soft. "I missed you. I missed your wide eyes, your nosiness, and the way your skin feels against mine." Edward had a rip along his knee. Jasper ran his finger along it, which made Edward shiver. He should have kicked Jasper's hand away but he didn't. "I like that no matter how much of a hard case I am, you see through me. It's been a long ass time since..."

When Edward realized Jasper wasn't going to finish the sentence, he asked, "Why'd you run to Maria, then?"

Jasper dropped his hand from Edward's knee. "Maria is—" Jasper cringed. "Let's put it this way. This. You and me. It's dangerous. If we're talking bad ideas, then this one is powerful bad."

"Because you ran a suicide mission to come and 'save' me?"

"For starters," Jasper grumbled.

But Edward saw flashes again in Jasper's mind. _Blood in puddles. Maria's mouth open and punishment flying from her lips. Edward's eyes. _Flashes that he'd seen before.

"What happened before? Why are you—?"

Edward didn't get to finish his question because there was a sudden thump, and a long thick rope fell onto the ledge.

"What the hell?" Jasper growled, spinning to face the rope.

"It's a rope."

It was like Jasper didn't hear him. He had his head craned upwards and was back on his haunches like he expected a regiment of vampires to be upon them at any moment.

Edward pulled on his shoulder. "It's not what you think." And then he pushed past Jasper, and grabbed the rope.

Jasper kept staring upward for some minutes, and only relaxed his gaze after the threat of any attack was longer imminent. "Well, do tell, then. Why is there a rope?" Jasper had both hands on his hips.

"They'd like us to come up."

"I got that. And why aren't you more concerned about this?"

"Because they're not a threat to me-or you."

Jasper wasn't saying or doing anything, but a sour sensation tingled across Edward's skin, like someone had swabbed him with acid. Edward explained in a hurry, "Your, um, suicide mission—wasn't exactly a suicide mission. Alvarado's coven knew you were coming, and were very open to the idea. They let you come in, more or less."

"They 'let' us come in."

"Well, I guess it would have been better manners if they would have invited you, but you could say our hosts have a sense of... theater."

"You mean—"

"-like I said-they're not a threat to us. The white flag is raised. Call it however you want to—but they mean us no harm." Edward gave Jasper a brilliant smile.

Jasper was looking peevish.

Edward bit his lip to stop himself from smiling. "Peter certainly put on quite the performance."

But Jasper wasn't smiling. Instead he closed his eyes, and Edward could almost sense him reaching out, sensing the emotions of those above them. After a long moment, he hissed, "There's no guarantee that we're not going to become jerky once we reach the top of that rope. It doesn't matter what yarn they spun for you."

"I can read their thoughts, Jasper."

"Like you can read mine?"

"I can... sort of."

Jasper gave him a dead stare.

"Look—I'm not supposed to tell you this, but you're going to figure it out anyway. Isabel, Alvarado's wife, is a telepath, like me—and she's not like Maria. She has golden eyes, and she wants to help me because she knows what it's like."

Jasper seemed to chew on his bottom lip for a moment before deciding. "Those are stupid reasons."

"Trust me."

"You don't trust me."

"Please."

"Why?"

Edward wasn't sure why—or maybe it was simply that he didn't have words to answer Jasper's question. _Why_?

But before he could stop himself, Edward took a step forward, sliding his hand under Jasper's jaw and pressing both of his lips against Jasper's. He licked at the bottom lip until it opened, and Edward could taste the venom on Jasper's tongue—sharp and honeyed.

When Jasper kissed him back, it was with a soft growl and yet—he was gentle. His hands slid around Edward's waist and his head swayed back, letting Edward kiss him deeper and deeper. It was slow and yet it felt so immense. There was nothing of the desperate kiss from before, just a painful sweetness that drowned Edward's whole mind.

Jasper was the one who broke the kiss. He pulled back, gasping, and looked Edward in the eyes. His lips were wet, and he pressed them together at the same time his eyes narrowed. "Hmmm..."

His breath hit Edward's lips, and it made him shudder. Edward bent forward to kiss him again.

Jasper put a finger over Edward's lips, and then he pulled out of Edward's arms, grabbing onto the rope.

"Ladies first," he said and tossed the rope end at Edward.

"What?" Edward asked, still out of breath. "You still don't trust me.?"

Jasper grinned with a wicked bow of his brows. "No, I am willing to trust you—but I have a preference for the view this way."

With a shake of his head, Edward swore and started to climb.

(o)(◌)(o)

As he heaved himself over the edge of the precipice, Edward took in the main chamber. He was surprised to find that no one was looking at him. Charlotte was holding Peter's hand, a worried look on her face, even as Peter sat, starry-eyed and all aglow. Alvarado and Isabel sat side by side on the black rock in the center of the room, with Alvarado twisting Isabel's long, dark hair in his fingers. He was obviously—aroused. There was no mistaking his thoughts. Isabel, on the other hand, was sitting stiffly, a slight frown on her face—and Edward realized it was due to Millie.

Millie was sitting with her bare legs stretched out over the lap of Ines. Ines had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was glaring at Millie.

Millie was glaring right back, her hands balled into fists. "No. I don't want a _palace_. Palaces are for bully-fops. Everyone is so stupid proper, and people have to bow and say silly lolly blah-blah your-royalness, blah-blah," she complained.

"Eh'fine, you choose," Ines barked.

Millie's eyes lit up. "How about a ship—with pirates?"

Ines frowned at Millie for a long second, before sighing and glancing toward Alvarado and Isabel. Isabel was nodding with vigor for him to proceed—and so the vision did.

Edward swayed on his feet as his whole world went lopsided, Ines's vision taking over his mind:

_A clipper roaring over the waves filled his vision. When it crested the next wave, the spray flew up, and Edward half-expected it to hit his face._

Except that a shriek halted it.

"No!" Millie screamed amid the roar of the waves, and Edward was distantly aware when she latched onto Ines. The vision snapped away—to be replaced by the upsweep of dark song, the familiar curl of longing in his belly that came from Millie's touch. The only problem was that Millie wasn't touching _him_. She was touching Ines, who was projecting. The whole room was being affected.

It stopped just as suddenly.

Edward swung around to see Jasper pulling himself up over the edge in a hurry. Jasper looked a bit green—which should have been impossible, but then, he'd still been swinging on the rope as the image of the ship had been projected.

Ines was swaying from side to side, and Millie had her arms crossed petulantly across her chest. "Can't you get anything right? I said _pirates__!_ And no introductions or... prologues." She searched out the word in her mind. "Pirates from the start." Millie was thinking of the story that Carlisle had read her. "The crow's nest with raising the Jolly Roger—and swords. Machetes. And some pretty cabin boys?" Her eyes slid toward Edward. She had noticed him. "Edward can be the cabin boy!" she cried delightedly.

All eyes swung toward him and Jasper.

Alvarado took over. "And... that's enough!" He clapped his hands and said, "Millie, my dear, that was such immense fun. I think we'll have another game later. Surely, you're hungry? You had a lengthy journey to come to us. I would be shocked if you weren't famished." He had the look of a doting father on his face, even if his thoughts were undeniably apprehensive.

The coven had never encountered the likes of Millie before.

"It's already caught?" Millie asked, her eyes narrowed and her lips became a rosebud pout as she considered the offer.

"Ines will take you, unless you'd prefer to hunt, my dear."

Ines cringed.

"That would be lovely as cake," Millie agreed, hopping to her feet. "I am thirsty, although..." She trailed off, eying Edward and Jasper from where she stood, "I suspect I'm not the only one."

"Don't worry about them, dear," Isabel said. "We'll see that they're taken care of."

Millie's coy smile was replaced by a flat frown. She didn't like Isabel. _Her eyes are yellow like a cat's—not like Carlisle's._ Not to mention, Millie knew that Isabel was annoyed by her.

Her reaction didn't last but a second, however. She patted Ines on the head even as he shirked from her touch. "Come," she said, and when Ines hesitated but a second more, she scooped him up and pranced down the tunnel and out of the chamber.

(o)(◌)(o)

As the tap-tap of Millie's footfalls faded, Isabel, Alvarado, and everyone remaining in the chamber turned to face Edward and Jasper.

"Welcome," Isabel said, standing and walking toward Jasper and Edward. "I see you two made it up the cliff in" ...she paused and Edward heard the humor in her thoughts... "one piece. I must admit, when you first fell I was worried, but as you two seemed to be doing fine on your own terms, I felt there was no need to rush you."

"Thanks for the rope," Jasper said, face expressionless.

"Jasper," Isabel dipped her chin in acknowledgment, "I've heard so much about you. I'm Isabel, and this is my husband, Alvarado."

Alvarado's patience ended at the mention of his name. "Jasper"—he leapt to his feet—"a talented one." His eyes swept up and down Jasper as if he was eying a racing horse. "From the northern coven?" _Maria's find..._

"Yes," Jasper answered, terse.

"And good with the newborns..." Alvarado said.

"So it would seem." Isabel was smiling at Edward.

Edward frowned back at her. Spying was impolite, but unavoidable given their talents. Acknowledging one's spying, however, clearly crossed some sort of boundary.

Isabel stifled a laugh as she heard Edward's thoughts. When both Jasper and Alvarado turned to look at her, she straightened up. "Jasper, Alvarado and I have already extended an invitation to your friends to join our coven. We would like to offer the same to you."

Jasper blanched, his mouth hanging open.

Alvarado thought this was very funny. "Ah! I can feel it. The discomfort and surprise." He gripped both of his arms and shivered. "It's like little Millie—but not err... as _precise_."

Isabel cut in. "No need for any pressing decisions now. I would like to invite you both to come hunting with me. It's been a while since I've fed, and I know Edward would appreciate it."

Edward turned to Jasper, but Jasper was already accepting. "Deer would be delightful," he said.

Isabel laughed.

Jasper laughed back. It would have sounded hollow if Jasper hadn't put extra effort into the accompanying smile... He was projecting trust in waves that hugged the shapes in the room. It seemed pointless. Both Isabel and Edward knew he was doing it.

Trying to follow along in their heads made Edward want to shut his eyes. It was like he was staring through too many mirrors and lenses, all refracting and reflecting and distorting. He couldn't see what was hidden. He couldn't see what was real and what was virtual. He couldn't connect dots that didn't exist.

(o)(◌)(o)

Alvarado and a few guards, including Rico, came with them. They exited out the northern side of the mountain, traveling from a cave to a carefully maintained tunnel. The reinforced adobe bricks started to smell more and more moist as the ground rose, and then Edward heard the sound of rushing water and creaking-groaning. Alvarado skipped up a set of stone steps, and then they entered a wooden building with high ceilings, and Edward saw the millstone, the levers, and outside the window, the steady turn of a water wheel. They were in a functioning mill.

"It helps to have a business," Isabel explained. "We grind maize and grains here."

"A front, you mean?" Jasper's voice sounded a touch impressed as he took in the factory.

"It's a legitimate business, actually," Alvarado said with a wide smile. "We're the most efficient mill in the whole capitol area. No infestations—rats don't like it here." He laughed. "Farmers from all over ship their crops to us—by wagon and by train—and we grind them up. We send back the bags, and the capitol gets her tortillas."

"How much we talking?" Jasper was sizing up the boxcars outside the window, not to mention the speeds of the water wheel and millstone. Even with his upper-class education, the calculations went whizzing past Edward—he wondered when Jasper had found the time to study such things.

"Enough." Alvarado's eyes glinted in the shadows. "Enough to live comfortably, not that vampires need much. I shouldn't take credit though—it was my intelligent wife's idea. She thought our rich coven could handle such an endeavor—and she was very right."

"Well, it's something to be proud of," Jasper said.

Isabel smiled politely at him. "To the forest, then? There's a good deal of wild life along the southern banks of the river. I'll have to advise you not to hunt humans along there, however. We do care for our reputation, as you can see."

The splashing of water and grinding of metal accompanied their descent into the dusk.

(o)(◌)(o)

"So, what's for lunch?" Jasper asked. "Jaguar doesn't range up this far."

Isabel answered, "Not often. The occasional prodigal will make it up north, but they prefer the Mayan jungles farther south. In the highlands, there's goat, some bear, and your occasional pack of jackals, although with decline of the pine forests since the conquest, there is less and less. In the lowland swamps you can find some crocodile and alligator species, and of course"—she narrowed her eyes at Jasper—"there is always squirrel."

"There was a time when I wouldn't turn up my nose at fried squirrel," Jasper said.

Edward didn't hide his disgust at the thought. "I take it you won't be dining with us."

Jasper grinned. "No squirrel for me."

"You can wait with us here," Alvarado offered. "Edward and my wife can catch some of theirs... and while they're gone, I'll make sure our thirst is attended to, as well."

"If it's not too much of a problem, I think I'll follow them. Maybe I'll take Edward's leftovers and fashion myself a coon cap. I always wanted one."

"I see." Alvarado was looking at him like he was an utter moron.

Edward had had enough. He marched forward, pushing on the back of Jasper's shoulder. "Let's just go."

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward did not catch any raccoons, jaguars or alligators. Instead, he and Isabel corralled a small pack of deer, and dinner was had. A guard hung back, along a piling of boulders. Jasper watched with his legs hanging from a tree limb from above. He was whistling as he watched them, some country tune from a half-century before.

Edward wished he wouldn't.

Isabel was all business. She downed her deer, drank from its throat and then shoved the carcass under a rock. Edward took longer. He had to steady his mind, focus on his need—and the sense of satiation. He didn't want to focus on the taste.

"Yeah, like day-old bread—a week later, isn't it?" Jasper called from above. He had sensed Edward's disgust over the deer.

"Are you sure you don't want a nibble? Think of them like _croutons_," Isabel teased, scrubbing her hands together to wipe off the bits of fur.

"Is that why you do it? You're one of those new-fangled salad ladies?" Jasper hopped from the tree.

"I'm not sure I've ever been called that," Isabel said. She was fully aware of what Jasper was really asking—but she was side-stepping the question. "You should be aware... my manner of sustenance, it's not required." She brushed at the cuff of her sleeve, a smile coming on her face. "Alvarado obviously follows his own way. I only wanted to be clear. Whatever you may have heard about our coven from your..."—a series of words to describe Maria filled Isabel's head—_that bitch_ being the loudest—"leader, I hope that you'll give us the benefit of the doubt, like we've done for you. Edward knows that I would like him to stay permanently with our coven, and I would add that I earnestly desire that you join as well."

"That's a kind invitation, especially from a coven such as yours."

"You're most welcome," Isabel said.

Jasper nodded, looking down at the dirt before scuffing his heel along the grass in a lazy way. "And what exactly would I be doing in your coven?"

Isabel smiled. "If you'd like to work with our guards, that would be wonderful."

"Newborns, you mean?"

"If you wished. We are aware of your talents."

"Hmmm... so which is it?" Jasper looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You genuinely want _my _talents because you're planning some massive campaign down the road and by getting me you'd be hurting the enemy and helping yourselves in one stroke—or is it that me and the kid get along real well, and you'd be damned to let an ace like him fall into the hands of another coven, so you'll keep my smart ass around to keep him steady?"

"Do you always assume the worst in people?" Isabel asked lightly.

"Got it in one, darling." Jasper winked at her, but not before his eyes flicked in Edward's direction.

Isabel laughed. "You shouldn't be so wary. I am fully aware of your doubt. I've heard it all before." She tapped her temple.

"And I've felt every last thrill and chill," Jasper answered.

"I'm aware," Isabel said. "You're mind is quite the puzzle. Yours and Millie's—most talented minds are complex to puzzle out, but normally there's some easy technique for me to see behind the facade they project, but with you..."—she crossed her arms across her chest—"it's no wonder Edward was having such a difficult time discerning his ability. He landed in the lion's den."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Jasper gave her a tight smile.

"Please do, and please consider my offer. We'd love for you to stay. My husband will have more to say. He has a grand vision for Mexico."

"Well, that sounds lovely." And he turned to face Edward. "You ready to hear the grand vision?"

"Sure..." Edward answered, looking back and forth between the two of them. Isabel was confident—in thought and emotion—whereas Jasper was wary as a cat.

"Well, I think I'm ready to head back," Jasper announced, and he held his arm out, palm up, gesturing from them to be on their way.

Edward didn't know how he felt. Isabel had never even asked him if he would—

Isabel's thoughts cut into his. _You will stay though, won't you?_

Edward balls his hands into fists. _I'm not saying I'm opposed to it—there's no way I want to stick around in Monterrey, but it's not that easy. I told you about Carlisle. Maria has him trapped there, and if I don't come back... I can't just leave him behind._

_We'll do what we can. I'm sure there will be an opportunity to extract your mentor._

But ahead of them—Jasper slowed his pace. His thoughts almost seemed to follow theirs. They were just clearing the trees when he spun on his heel and faced Edward. "I don't care what she fuzzy yarns she spins you—if we're not showing our shiny faces in Monterrey by the next moon, then don't kid yourself: Shakespeare is toast." And then he turned right back around and kept on walking.

Isabel and Edward both watched him as he stormed forward. Edward half-wanted to call him back, beg out the details so he could try to sort out some solution. But Isabel was watching Jasper with a thoughtful expression on her face.

She turned to Edward. _He's very good at connecting those dots—isn't he?_

Edward didn't feel the question required an answer.

(o)(◌)(o)

That evening, Alvarado regaled all of them with the details of his grand vision. "Volterra thinks she can rule us all from her high seat—pah!" Alvarado spat. "We have more than enough raw talent to hold them off. We have the resources of the whole continent. The New World is no longer some squabbling infant. She has arisen! There's no reason to bend ourselves to the old stone city. They only show up when it's to their benefit." His voice went high, almost squeaky. "Oh no, Aro—I think the little topaz vampires are starting to over-spawn. Those indigents drink their victims like they used to drink Tequila, and they squabble amongst themselves like they dens of thieves." Then his voice went raspy. "Yesssss, Cauis, but the over-spawning will yield some diamonds in the rough. Will be able to swoop in at the last second, pretend we're noble avengers, and then poach a few talented gems from the dragon's lair." A high-pitched, maniacal cackle was then emitted.

Edward was very confused. Carlisle had only ever spoken of Volterra in a respectful way.

Millie, Jasper, and Peter, however, looked rather impressed, if a little bewildered, by the strange voice imitations. Or perhaps that was what impressed them—that anyone would actually puppet the ancients of Volterra.

Isabel was tapping Alvarado on the shoulder. "Dear, I think our guests are wearied."

Alvarado gave his wife a very pouty face, and mentally spoke to to her in a tongue that Edward didn't understand—and then he turned right back to the group. "So what do you think?"

"You ain't planning on challenging the Italians?" Peter pronounced _Italians_ EYE-talians.

"Oh! Not a challenge—merely a..." Alvarado tilted his head to the side as he searched out the word.

"Maturation," Isabel supplied.

"Yes!" Alvarado threw his hands up. "A _maturation_. A simple reestablishing of new order. The last civilization of vampires to control the continent was still practicing human sacrifice and prancing about like sparkling gods—we can't have that anymore. We need to be the leaders of a modern era! There's no reason for the Europeans to be hounding us when we are perfectly capable of policing ourselves."

"And just how are you planning to stop all the coven wars?" Jasper asked.

"We talk to them," Alvarado said.

"And if they don't like the talk?"

"Then we police," Alvarado said, his voice no longer playful. "The wars that occur in these lands are wasteful and call undue attention upon ourselves. If the covens seek to usurp the peace then they shall be crushed."

It was then that Edward saw Alvarado not as a doting husband or a quirky coven leader, but as the vampire who had indeed usurped the Aztec vampire three centuries before. There was a resonant determination to his voice—and more importantly, the flash of memories—battles, conquest. Alvarado had been planning this for ages.

"So why... now?" It was Peter who asked.

"Because _now _is the time—because every second not acted upon is a second wasted! Our immortality breeds inaction when it should be breeding—" Alvarado carried on with his speech, his red eyes wide and his hands frantic with their gesturing.

But Jasper's eyes were on Edward, and his thoughts were clear. _Just don't be a lick surprised if you're asked to go on some of these "talks." They're going to want to know whether or not their words are heeded, you get my drift?"_

Isabel made no attempt to pretend she hadn't heard. She rolled her eyes at Jasper. "You don't think I could do the same? Edward is free to help as he chooses."

_I think your husband likes you safe and sound—and not expendable. Our boy here on the other hand..._

"You see monsters where there are only shadows." She shook her head at him.

_Your dearest husband sees himself with a scepter, a crown, and a queen._

"Need I repeat my former statement?" She shook her head and then she turned to smile at Edward. _He's grumpy,_ her thoughts said_, give him a kiss and make it better, okay?_ She patted Edward on the cheek and started to walk away, but then she stopped. "Oh, and don't forget to remind him that—" Her words cut off and then only her thoughts were audible in his mind—_Maria asked you to spy on his and Millie's thoughts. See how he likes the shape of those shadows._

(o)(◌)(o)

Jasper was acting like the equivalent of an emotional cactus. He was sitting at the back of the circuit of tunnels where Isabel had urged all of them to relax. Given Jasper's less than ebullient mood, Peter, Charlotte, and Millie had long since cleared out. Edward, for some dumb reason he couldn't possibly fathom, had stayed.

"You're like a vampire hedgehog." Edward scowled at Jasper.

"You're like an anteater." When he saw Edward's confusion, he added, "Nosey."

Edward almost made some bad allusion about how _if ants were vampires, then_—but he stopped himself. He shouldn't let Jasper's mood infect his. There was also the issue that this was the first time that he'd been alone with Jasper since the episode on the cliff—and he felt that he and Jasper should talk... or something.

With a sigh, Edward decided to cut to the chase. "So... you don't seem to like Isabel's offer?"

"What do ye think?" Jasper asked before rolling his eyes. "Better yet, tell me. What am I thinking? Go on in and fill it in for me will ya?"

"Reading your thoughts when you're like this is close to impossible. They're a big, twisted mess."

""Twisted mess, like a cyclone. That's a better image than a hedgehog." Jasper pressed his head back against the rock, looking up at Edward.

"I think you should stay—even if..."

"If what?"

"If I don't."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Well, I can't just leave Carlisle there."

Jasper's eyes turned away from Edward. "Shakespeare can take care of himself, believe it or not."

"You trust Maria not to kill him?"

Jasper snorted. "That's like trusting tears from an alligator."

"You should know. Maria told me I had to spy on you—and Millie. On your thoughts. She thought one of you was acting as a spy. Feeding information to the capitol coven." When Jasper didn't say anything Edward kept on talking. "The attack on Amilicar's coven in Monterrey was supposed to be a surprise—but he knew about it—even if he didn't take the threat seriously."

"So which one of us was it?" Jasper asked, and his voice—even his mood—barely changed at all.

"Um, well, neither—obviously. Alvarado has a talent, like you might expect. He can scry long distances. He saw the coven's preparations and sent on word."

"I see."Jasper's expression was unchanged, but there was a fast churn of memories: _Maria standing aside Mazatl in the cabin, speaking in the old tongue—knowing Jasper couldn't understand half of what they were saying. Edward's guilty expression. Millie lunging for his skin. Maria's words to him as he left. "You'll be back," she'd said. So confident._

"Maria would have known about Alvarado's power—wouldn't she?" Edward asked.

"Maybe, maybe not." Jasper shrugged. "Just because she was fucking him once upon a time—doesn't mean she knew what he was thinking—or that he trusted her."

The way Jasper said the word—_fucking_—was with extra bitter emphasis.

Edward looked down at his feet as he said, "Why would you want to go back there?"

"I wouldn't."

"You wouldn't..."

"But that doesn't mean I want to stay here either."

"You'd leave?"

"Probably wouldn't make a difference. I'd try to hole up in the middle of some wasteland and some nosy anteater would come long and make a ruckus in the compost—and then I'd be just as bothered as I would be here—so maybe I should just stick around here. See which way the wind blows." Jasper took the moment to blow his long bangs out of his face and then he gave Edward a wry smile.

"Um, was that some weird form of an invitation? Or are you saying you'll stay."

"Come here," Jasper said. With his head back against the wall, he lazily wagged his index finger, beckoning Edward to come closer.

Edward felt a lump in his throat. "I thought you wanted to left alone."

"I thought you were supposed to be harassing me into staying."

Edward didn't say a word as he walked toward Jasper. He didn't walk _to_ him, though. He took a spot an arm's reach away on the wall, sliding down so that his legs were flat out in front of him.

Jasper watched him, unmoving, and when Edward was finally still, Jasper shook his head, like he was annoyed, even though Edward knew he wasn't. "What did I ask you?"

"I'm right here."

"No, you weren't," Jasper said, grabbing his arm and yanking him over, "but now you are." And Edward was knocked so that his head was more or less in Jasper's lap with his bicep awkwardly twisted in Jasper's grip.

Edward glared at Jasper.

Jasper batted his lashes at him. "One might get the impression that you didn't like me."

"Maybe I don't."

"Sure about that?" Jasper asked, and then his fingers so softly slid down either side of Edward's face, stopping only when they reached the dip in his chin, and then his thumbs came up and traced the curve of Edward's bottom lip. It was enough to make Edward swallow at the sudden dryness in this throat.

"Sure you don't like me?" Jasper asked again, his voice dark like a spell.

"I'm sure," Edward answered. "Very sure." Although his voice was almost as low and thick as Jasper's. He was still staring at Jasper when he realized what he wanted—that he couldn't take it any more—that he could _take_, too, if he wanted to. That's when he pushed himself up.

Jasper's eyes were looking directly into his. They were red—just like his own, and yet Edward thought they looked more human for it. Jasper was trying to hide it—beneath the anticipation and desire there were confusion and a touch of fear. Jasper had no idea what Edward was going to do. There was only his wavering hope.

Edward leaned forward. He wasn't sure why he did it, but he kissed each of Jasper's eyes, pressing a soft brush of his lips against each lid. Next he kissed his nose, and trailed his lips along his cheekbone, until his lips were at Jasper's ear. He whispered, "I really shouldn't like you, should I?"

"Pretty stupid," Jasper whispered back.

"You are such an asshole."

"Come here."

This time, Edward did.

Edward threw his knee over the other side of Jasper's lap so that he was straddling him, and then one of Jasper's hands was on his neck and another was fisted in his air. Edward was grabbing back, locking Jasper in place so that he couldn't leave. So that he had to stay. So that Edward could keep kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until his head spun like crazy and Jasper's mind was melted into his.

Edward wasn't even sure how the laces got undone—or how Jasper ended up on his back, sprawled back along the curve of the cavern wall. But there was Jasper's skin beneath his fingers, the planes of his chest rising and falling beneath Edward's hands. There was the new and profound sensation of a hard muscles and ribs and nipples against his own—but it didn't feel alien at all. Edward grabbed Jasper and pulled him tight against him. Not wanting to let him go. Wanting to feel possessed and wanting to possess. Maybe it was Jasper's power—completely uncensored and wildly out of control as it was—and Edward magnifying it by being so lost in his head.

Either way, Edward was going mad with the feeling of Jasper's body grinding against his. He couldn't get enough. Hands that pinioned his hips and shoved him up and down even as their mouths chased one another's.

Edward knew that at some point—probably at the point where his fingers started to tear at fabric—he said, "I need more skin," and Jasper was bobbing his head and pushing them apart and Edward was kicking off a trouser leg. The drop in temperature blanketed his body and then it was gone, disappearing just as fast when Jasper pulled him toward him.

He was in Jasper's lap again and they were pressed together. Delicious friction as Jasper length rubbed against his, up and down, Edward pushing up and down on Jasper's shoulders while hands squeezed at his ass.

They were moving faster and harder, and then Jasper's hands were squeezing so hard, pulling Edward against his chest, that Edward thought he was going break in two—except that he didn't. Instead of pain there was pleasure, the sudden slickening of their abdomens and the slow slip and slide of their movements up and down. Rise and fall, until that last gasp fled from Edward's lips.

When Jasper stilled, Edward bent down and kissed the start of the scar on his back.

Jasper shivered and then his finger came up and pulled on Edward's chin, guiding him back so that they could look each other in the eyes again.

"I'll stay if you'll stay," was all that Jasper said.

(o)(◌)(o)

* * *

A/N: If you like awesome repartee between dudes who like dudes, go read McFearless by teambella#s. It begins with her one-shot that won best comedy in the SBS2.0 contest and continues into emo-hilarity. It makes me stoopid happy.

Next, it's not Twilight, but like... it's AH. _The Student Prince_ ( http: / archiveofourown . org/works/91885) is about a boy who ends up being the Prince of Wales roommate at St. Andrews. It's Arthur/Merlin but like... you can imagine Edward and Jasper pretty easily in their place if that's what you need. Fayjay is one of the top slash writers out there. She's is so funny and smart and who doesn't want to read a modern fairytale come to life?


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer_: Um, no copyright infringement intended.

**A/N**:

1. So, this story is written! Like, mostly-I'm rewriting some bits of the final chapter, and we're in the full-on editing process (because the finale was too flaccid). But needless to say, this means three chapters, including this one, and an epi are going to go up over the next two weeks. Yay!

2. _Yesternight_ won a Vampie for Best Slash! See the banner twificpics(dot)com/vampawards. Thanks to everyone who voted.

3. I have a o/s on my profile from the Carlward contest, _Red Geraniums_, that won first in voting and second for judges. I'm rather proud of it, actually.

4. HUGE thank yous to **Katiniki** and **Ellecc** for pre-reading and beta'ing and being all-together wonderful, and then thanks to all of you for putting up with my long waits followed by bursts of prose.

* * *

(o)(◌)(o)

It is foolish to pretend that one is fully recovered from a disappointed passion.  
Such wounds always leave a scar.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(o)(◌)(o)

The second after Jasper made his promise—his "I'll stay, if you stay," Edward kissed him, long and slow and with no small amount of disbelief, because he didn't know any other way to respond.

Jasper's arms were tight around his back. His skin was some combination of rock salt and sweet as Edward drew in a breath from the crease of his neck ...and then there was the feeling… the aura, whatever the hell you wanted to call it, but it radiated from Jasper. It was contentment, tranquility—a sense of peace. Edward held him even tighter because he knew it was he who had given him that.

But then the guilt niggled in the back of his mind.

Carlisle.

Caught and trapped with Maria because of _him_. If he was honest, because of Jasper, too.

Jasper stiffened in Edward's arms. "You're thinking about him."

"I'm thinking about what you said." Edward reached up to touch Jasper's face.

But Jasper bent away from Edward. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his jaw was set.

"Hey..." Edward soothed, trying to pull him back, but Jasper yanked away, sitting back on the stone floor.

"No. Not now. You can't possibly—"

"I don't—" Edward caught Jasper's flailing palm.

"You want to go after him." Jasper's voice was a combination of disbelief and anger. "Fucking _Shakespeare_." He jerked his eyes from Edward's.

"He's my—"

"Yeah?" Jasper demanded. The lantern light had long since faded to a minuscule blue dot, fading the cavern into violet and grey darkness. The midnight glow made Jasper look even angrier leaned in, pressing their faces together. Edward could see the tension in his shoulders, the sharp rise and fall of his chest as he seethed. It didn't help that they were mostly naked. Jasper still had an undershirt that was scrunched above his belly button and Edward had one sock on his left foot. It also didn't help that Jasper was projecting sexual tension along with the anger, and Edward was hardening _again_.

Edward said, "I want… I need you, but I owe him. He was…"

"Was _what_?"

"My _friend_—who doesn't deserve to die."

"You don't know that he'll die."

"But you do," Edward countered.

Edward heard Jasper's teeth click as his mouth snapped shut. Jasper's thoughts… the memories of threats made good upon. Newborns didn't last in Maria's coven, much less an older vampire like Carlisle. Jasper's memories gave a clear future. Edward shivered, knowing that he had no choice—there was either a dead Carlisle or a saved Carlisle—and that wasn't a choice so much as a clear direction.

He pushed at Jasper. "Fuck that."

Jasper refused to budge. "Just stay here."

"And be a coward?"

"If you had a chance in hell of being successful—I might let it go. But you don't. They'll be waiting for you to come back for him. Certain elimination. Waltzing your heinie off to suicide isn't bravery—" Jasper started.

But Edward pushed again, and this time Jasper fell back onto his elbow, although his free hand managed to catch Edward's wrist—and twist it.

It ended with them falling to the side with a crash. Somehow, despite Edward's knowing the maneuver, Jasper's thigh was stronger than Edward thought it should be. Or maybe Edward didn't push back hard enough. Either way, Jasper ended up on top.

"I meant it," Jasper said. "Stay. Then we can both stay."

"What part of this do you not get? I'll get him out of there, and then I'll come back. For you."

"It doesn't work that way."

"You won't help me?"

"Helping you is keeping you _alive_. Safe." Jasper braced Edward against the floor with his knees and elbows. Edward didn't protest. Jasper was... Jasper was shaking. When Edward curled his fingers around Jasper's arm… he felt something dark and untouchable... fear. Jasper was afraid.

"Jasper, why are you—?" Edward started to say.

The kiss was all whiplash. Edward's head cracked against the stone, even as his mouth curled into the push of tongue. Jasper's body—his chest, hip bones, dick, knees, toes—every inch of him was grinding against Edward.

"Jasper," Edward whispered again, hoarse, because Jasper was kissing at his neck.

Jasper broke the kiss to tell him, "You can't leave. Promise."

Edward brought their foreheads together in the dark. "There's something you're not telling me." The flashes of the past: blood pooled on the floor. Maria's eyes. Lucy's laugh coming out of her hollowed skull.

Jasper's voice came out in a hiss. "Stop your digging."

"Then be honest. I don't even understand why you'd want to stay here."

Jasper shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? It's... _safe_." His tone lightened. "Powerful coven. Nice digs. Fancy heating system. Lots of free grain, maize. We can pound out heaps of tortillas at the mill, if that's how we want to roll out the rest of our days."

"What you really mean is Isabel prying—Alvarado making me his errand boy. You weren't wrong about all of that before. Wouldn't you rather us go some place separate, without all of this..." He gestured at the air.

Jasper didn't answer him. He grabbed Edward's sides, his fingers pushing between the ribs. "I'm going to convince you to stay," Jasper insisted, before scooting back to kiss at the top of Edward's belly, and then lower, on each hip bone.

"Jasper, no—" Edward tried to push Jasper's head away, but Jasper swatted his hand—before dipping his head and sucking Edward's cock into his mouth.

Edward took the Lord's name in vain.

Jasper sucked deeper. He stopped when he'd fully taken Edward in, his nose buried in his curls. He relaxed his cheeks and breathed in, quite obviously taking in Edward's scent. When he pulled back, it was with a hard stroke of the tongue and a loud pop, and Edward had to bite back so that he didn't cry out.

When Edward looked down again, Jasper's tongue was circling the tip of his head, and his eyes were plain evil. "Still want me to stop?"

"N—nnnn." Edward never even got the word out, because Jasper chose that moment to suck Edward in again.

Edward gave up on speaking. Instead he focused only on the act. On Jasper's blond bangs flapping up and down from his effort. On the way Edward's spine felt ready to snap like an overstressed piece of metal.

Eventually, though, Edward started to lose it. He was a hair's breadth from exploding.

It was a shock, then, when Jasper stopped, crawled up him, held out his hand, looked him up and down, said, "You're not fully convinced yet," before commanding, "Spit."

Edward was more or less willing to do anything Jasper said at this point, so he opened his mouth and he spit. In response, Jasper kissed him, a too-knowing smile stretched across his face, and he shoved his hand between Edward legs to circle a slick finger against his hole.

Edward tensed. As Jasper started to press more, Edward jerked back.

"You don't want..." Jasper looked confused.

"I didn't say that. But why _me_... like... like _that_?"

"Why not?"

"Why not _you_?"

"We can do that... eventually." Jasper looked thoughtful.

"We were just fighting, and now you want to, um..." Edward stammered.

"Yep, just like you do."

Edward took in a sharp breath. Because... well, yes, he wanted Jasper's mouth back on him. Or he would be amenable to sticking his dick in Jasper, but having his cheeks spread and his asshole _breached _was something completely separate.

"Here's what ya do," Jasper said, rolling his eyes. "You kneel up, I'll go real slow, and then we'll fuck each other like—"

He didn't get to finish because Edward tackled him.

Jasper was laughing as Edward tried to flip him. But then Edward was stronger, so he did flip Jasper—which shut Jasper up.

But then Jasper had Edward in a headlock, while somehow managing to get a knee into Edward's belly. Edward was so shocked at the loss of air, that he loosened his grip, which allowed Jasper to get a leg over on him.

Then Jasper was on his back, and Edward responded by jumping backward and slamming them both into the wall.

There was a terrible groaning of stone—which Jasper thought was really funny, because he was laughing, his arms still drooped around Edward's neck. "You—" he started. "They're going to hear us."

"It's your fault. You wanted to stick your finger up my ass."

"And you decided to fight about it."

"Because you—"

But he was cut off by Jasper bringing a finger to his lips. "Fine. I concede," was all he said.

Edward almost didn't process his words enough to loosen his arms enough as Jasper jerked himself around, his fingers looping into Edward's, his thumb smoothing over Edward's palm. The stone beneath Edward's heels made a gravel crunch as Jasper pivoted him, and then Jasper was raising Edward's palm, holding it beneath his mouth. Jasper spit.

"You're, um." Edward swallowed.

"Yes, we're going to '_ummm_,'" Jasper teased.

"Are you sure?" Edward's voice was unsteady.

"I fucking said—" But then Jasper paused, rolling his eyes, before shoving Edward off, only to crawl back on top of him, throwing a leg over the top.

"Oh," Edward said, because Jasper was kneeling with his legs on either side of Edward, and Edward finally understood what Jasper had planned.

Jasper didn't roll his eyes, but he did grab Edward's cock with an almost-pout.

Edward half-thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head when Jasper positioned himself over it.

When the angle was just so, with Jasper's skin was against Edward's tip, Jasper smiled at him.

"Holy fuck, I didn't mean..." Edward stammered.

"This'll be better," was all Jasper said in reply, and then he started to lower his weight.

At the first sensation of his tip pressing against the tight entrance—Edward involuntarily bucked his hips. His throat tingled, like he was thirsty, and he had to grip Jasper's hips—hard—probably too hard—to keep a grip on himself.

Jasper was tight. Tight and slick, and Edward's vision seemed to refuse to focus. His eyes were hazily locked on Jasper's but then it was like the whole cavern was pulsing in and out in the periphery. Jasper's mouth was hanging open, and every time he inched lower on Edward, he let out a breath.

When he was fully sunk on Edward, Jasper went still.

"Are you all right?" Edward asked. Jasper's eyes were closed, even as his mouth hung open and his head fell back. Edward rubbed Jasper's thighs in long strokes.

Jasper opened his eyes and nodded. "Doesn't hurt—I'm a fucking vampire. It's just... I've got to find the right angle."

He started to lean back on Edward, before rising up and sliding back down.

Edward's vision snapped in and out. "Oh, God, Jasper."

When Jasper started to push back up again, Edward grabbed his sides, pumping him up before pushing him down. "There?" Edward asked.

"Higher."

Edward brought him higher. More forward.

"Yeah, almost..."

Edward kissed him, brought him up again, and he and Edward both cursed as he plunged on Edward.

"That's it." Jasper's voice had lost its melodic quality. It sounded strangled.

"Yeah," Edward panted—because the way Jasper had projected—_intense, raw, unbuckled pleasure_—Edward was in a partial state of shock that he hadn't just exploded inside Jasper.

"Keep. Doing. That."

"You couldn't—make me—stop."

Edward and Jasper were half-rocking with every thrust. Edward was torn between staring stupidly at Jasper—and keeping up with jerking Jasper's cock. Because with every rise and fall, Jasper's lashes fluttered. The pattern of scars on his chest caught the lantern glow, brightening like half-moons before disappearing in deeper waves. Edward also couldn't get over the vision of watching his cock go in and out of Jasper. Of watching Jasper's cock as it smacked against his belly. He was perfect. He was a jerk half the time—and a stupid asshole the other half—but god, he was fucking gorgeous—and—

"You—are—I—" Jasper's voice came out in a growl.

"You're beautiful. I can think it, if I want to."

"You're a pain in the ass," Jasper said, and then he laughed, sounding high and happy at his own joke.

"You did not just—"

"I _did_."

"Are you going to make horse jokes, too?" Edward's voice was shrill. Jasper started moving faster.

"Well, stallions are—"

But Jasper didn't get to finish before Edward grabbed his jaw and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss, drinking in his venom and tasting the mix of their two mouths with long slow drags of tongue, velvet-soft and almost dripping with every curl of moisture, even as their hips moved faster, harder.

Edward focused only on the back and forth of their bodies. On Jasper's sharp little noises. On digging his heels into the floor and keeping their rhythm.

Edward didn't have to tell Jasper when he was close.

Jasper was closer.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Jasper grunted, holding Edward's shoulders like reins and rolling his head back like he expected to be carried off with the wind. When Edward followed, it was Edward burying his face into Jasper's neck, suffocating the groan that arose from the pit of his stomach. But Jasper. Jasper was something brighter than the sun.

When Edward started to speak, Jasper shushed him.

"We'll talk about it later," he said.

Edward gripped Jasper harder. "I don't want to leave you."

"I know."

He got another kiss, a slap on the ass, and then Jasper rose off of him, skipping across the floor to gather their clothes.

They were in the slow process of getting dressed when a giggle descended from the upper chambers.

"Mother of fucking Mercy," Jasper spat, "Millie, if that's _you_..."

There was another giggle. This time the direction was more distinctive. Definitely Millie.

"It's her," Edward confirmed.

There was a sudden whoosh, and then a black shape landed in the middle of the room.

Edward found his front covered by Jasper—who had managed to don trousers.

"Hello, boys," Millie greeted with a smile too large for her face. She pointedly sniffed the air. "Have you been busy?" Her hand flew to her mouth with fake innocence. "Oh! I didn't mean to interrupt. Or maybe I did..." She descended into giggles again.

"Get the fuck out," Jasper said.

"But I'm supposed to tell you a _something, _dumpling drops."

Edward and Jasper both glared at her.

"Ooh. Eek. I don't know if I should tell you. You look malevolent." Millie pouted, before smiling "—and very messy. But gooood messy, not icky bad messy. Like two pretty boys who selfishly forgot to _invite _Millie"

Jasper snarled, "You weren't invited," at the same time that Edward said, "What's the message?"

Millie smirked before she straightened and looked skyward, squared her shoulders, and spoke in a much deeper voice. "Alvarado asked me to inform you messieurs that they're assembling in the crown chamber. Your presence is requested at once." She giggled again, cast Edward a wink, and skipped out of the chamber.

Edward scratched his head and gave Jasper a worried glance. He wondered what sort of books Millie had been reading lately.

(o)(◌)(o)

They were assembled in Isabel's library. Millie had taken a seat on one of the stools, crossing her arms and swaying her feet impatiently. Isabel was on the sofa next to Alvarado, and Charlotte was seated at Isabel's feet. The heart-faced newborn had her legs crossed, but her hands were clasped over her mouth. Charlotte was trying and failing to control her sniffled giggles, because Peter was conducting a dramatic reading.

Peter's right hand supported the book while the other gesticulated in a fashion that made Edward wonder if Peter intended to take up juggling at any moment. He read:

"And as the BUTCHER takes away the calf,  
And _binds _the wretch and _beats _it when it strains,  
_B_earing it to the _bloody_ slaughter-house,  
Even so remorseless have they borne him hennnnnce."

To his own shock, Edward recognized the passage. Shakespeare. One of the histories.

_The Second Part of Henry the Sixth_. Jasper had already settled on the title. He was looking back and forth between Peter and Charlotte, with evident happiness. He seemed to think something had changed there...

"And as the dam runs loooooowing up and down..." Peter's hand swept out so as to imitate falling water. "Looking the way her harmless young one went..." He batted his lashes, going on. He finished with, "...look after him, and cannot do him good, so _mighty _are his vow-ED e_nnnnnn_emies." Then, Peter took a bow.

They all clapped politely.

Except for Millie—she looked ready to throw rotten produce at him.

Isabel thanked him. "That was lovely, Peter. I have never heard that piece..."—she paused, at a loss as she looked for the words—"so well... _enunciated._Or with such enthusiasm." She gave a firm nod, knowing she'd found just the right words.

Peter dipped his head, obviously pleased. "Well, and that's just for starters. I've a mind to try my hand at some oratory."

Mentally, half of the room cringed, but it was Jasper who laughed. The sound was light and easy, not mocking, and it made Edward smile at him.

"What?" Peter wheeled on his heel, scowling at Jasper.

"Nothing. I'd love to hear your brand of oration," Jasper said.

"Well, since we're sticking around, I thought it might fine to brainstorm ways to be useful." Peter crossed his arms, chest puffed out.

"Ah..." Jasper said, but he didn't say anything more. His thought switched to Edward. On giving him time. On convincing him. He was afraid what had happened before hadn't changed anything.

His doubts made Edward want to reach out and touch him. He didn't though. He kept his hands at his sides. He could feel Isabel's attention in his mind. She was more than a little curious...

On his cushion, Alvarado shrugged. "Useful. Not much required to be useful. Everyone—excepting my lovely wife—is required to do some patrol, but that doesn't take that much time. Our borders are solid, and there are only so many entrances and zones to sentry."

"Oh, should we get our names on the schedule?" Peter looped his arm through Charlotte's, like they were a solid team. Charlotte giggled, but she didn't balk at Peter's touch.

Alvarado waved his hand willy-wally. "Whenever. Ines, you take care of it."

Ines cringed but nodded. He cast a long glance at Isabel.

"About how many do you post...?" Jasper asked.

Alvarado gave him a smirk. "Not as many as other covens, we have better methods." He tapped his skull, and he winked at Jasper.

"Gotcha."

Isabel remained silent, but her thoughts "jerked" slightly, or that's how Edward would have described it. She was looking in the direction of Ines—who was looking highly unnerved at her stare.

"Actually, Edward, if you would accompany me..." Alvarado rose.

Isabel was giving her husband a look. She didn't see why he wanted to talk to Edward away from the rest of them.

_I'm taking him up to eagle's peak, darling. Nothing scandalous. _

Isabel gave a pretty flip of her hair and turned away.

Edward nodded and stood. He cast a final glance at Jasper, who was glaring distrustfully at Alvarado, and Edward couldn't suppress a smile.

(o)(◌)(o)

They were high up in the caverns. Through the throne room. Up a side stair, and then there was a narrow hole in the rock above. Edward could make out a trickle of pale daylight.

Alvarado was about to hop up when they both realized that Ines was following them.

"Go away, Ines," Alvarado commanded.

"_Hay espacio_," Ines countered, and then he cast a sheepish glance at Edward, "and I don't want to listen to _más_ of your _amigo's _poetry. No offense."

Alvarado snorted at the same time that Edward said, "Er, none taken."

"Fine. Fine. Fine, but then go first." Alvarado pointed at the hole above, to which Ines leapt in an easy leap.

As his feet disappeared into the space above, Alvarado explained, "He normally comes with me up here. Part of his talent, I think he likes the wide view. It's a mental break of sorts," and then he gestured for Edward to follow Ines.

Edward jumped. The hole was narrow. He had to brace his knees and heels in order to gain his balance. Above, some dust and small pebbles were falling as Ines clamored up above him. Edward grabbed a higher stone and started to climb.

As he climbed, the light grew brighter. The air changed. He felt the first shift of breeze, and then the channel widened and he found the rock sloping until it opened into a globe-shaped room. On the upper ledge, there was a break in the rock, almost like a vampire had punched it out. Ines was sitting there, looking out, and as Edward came up beside him, he could see out into the valley. The sun was high. The red earth of the plains was in high contrast to the black slopes of the mountain and the jungle green thickets that surrounded its base. It went on for miles and miles.

Edward let out a long exhale of awe.

"Perfecto, no?" Alvarado was behind him with his arms crossed and an expression of pride on his face. He reminded Edward of a king showing off his kingdom. Then again, that was perhaps exactly what he was—in vampire terms.

"I've never been up so high..."

"Or seen so far with those new eyes?" Alvarado smiled knowingly. "It helps that you're somewhat older now. The youngest newborns can only focus on those tiny dots out there." He squinted his eyes and pointed out toward the west.

He meant the humans, the distal movement of workers sowing grain and agave in the fields. Now that he focused on, Edward felt his throat tingle.

At his side, Ines elbowed him with a smirk. He was thirsty too, and Edward's discomfort was obvious.

"Do you come up here often?" Edward asked.

"I do. Sometimes it's easier to see the most clearly when the view before you is the clearest. Or that's how I feel."

"I understand." Edward understood far too well. "Do you see Maria's coven?"

At his side, Ines tensed, but his thoughts were... strange. He seemed uncomfortable around Alvarado's power. Or maybe Edward's. Edward wasn't sure.

Alvarado meanwhile had closed his eyes. Edward watched him and then relaxed as Alvarado's mind began sweeping across open plain, small village, and stormy desert. Edward felt a chill down his spine as Alvarado seemed to take them into the coven's Monterrey cabin. At first the interior seemed fogged, but then there was a slight change in light to the left. Alvarado's vision shifted and there he was. Carlisle.

He was sitting across from Elisa. He had a paper in his hands. The vision seemed to shake for a moment, and then Alvarado gave a sigh and set back.

"So, there he is. Safe for the moment." Alvarado uncrossed his arms.

"For the moment," Edward muttered.

"You mean to go after him?"

"Do I have a choice? They'll kill him."

"We can send a small troupe, perhaps. Isabel is interested in your Carlisle. As I must admit, am I. He spent time with the Volturi, yes?"

"Yeah." Edward glanced up at Alvarado. He'd never told anyone that bit of information.

Alvarado smiled. "Don't look so gob smacked. Your British friend arrived just a few decades after I left. I was still getting letters from Marcus then, before he got, well, _grumpy_." Alvarado looked quite peeved over the memory. "But it seems old Aro was quite taken with Carlisle. He was especially sad when he ran off to the Americas. Not that I blame your old boy. Aro is a pasty old fart."

Edward cringed. He didn't want to think about Carlisle... with anyone, which wasn't to say that he was thinking of him that way. Or that he was jealous. It would just be like seeing a family member doing something gross. When he looked up, Alvarado was smiling at him... knowingly.

When Edward cast him a slight frown, Alvarado put on an innocent expression and tapped his fingers on the stone frame of the "window" as he pretended to be more interested in the view.

"Your Jasper friend doesn't seem to like Carlisle all that much... does he?"

"Not especially."

"And he doesn't want you going after him."

"Did Isabel tell you all of this?" Edward kept the heat out of his voice, but he couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. Ines was pretending not to focus on the conversation, but he was cataloguing every word.

Alvarado laughed. "My wife has an excellent insight—but no... She told me nothing. Please, credit my excellent powers of deduction."

"Fine." Edward shrugged.

Alvarado looked somewhat peeved that he hadn't taken the bait, but he continued, "But like I was saying before, we could send a talented team after your Carlisle. We'll include Ines here. We could slip him out without Maria ever knowing... until it's too late." Alvarado looked away from Edward as he said Maria's name. His tone didn't change, but Edward was reminded of a guilty child, looking down at his feet.

Ines broke Edward's thoughts. "But why?"

"Why what?" Alvarado snapped.

"It's just one vampire."

"One _innocent _vampire," Alvarado said.

Ines opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but then he silenced himself. His thoughts were in fast Spanish but Edward could tell he was wondering if they'd be going after Carlisle solely because of Edward or if Isabel wanted more yellow-eyes like herself hanging around. Ines thought they'd be better off without—

His thoughts clamped off. He glared at Edward, before standing. "My time for rounds," he said.

Alvarado gave a single nod, dismissing him.

Ines made the leap down. They heard a crackle of rock as he caught his balance far down below.

When the sounds of his footsteps were gone, Edward turned to Alvarado. "Do you trust him?"

Alvarado looked startled. "He's... strange, but yes, I trust him. Isabel would know..." But then Alvarado's brow furrowed. A second of doubt creeping in, before he shook his head, dismissing it. "Ines is very talented, but he requires discipline. I indulge him often, but he still balks under orders. Frequently."

Edward nodded. Alvarado was talking about him as much as he was talking about Ines. If he stayed... he would have to take orders too. That's what Alvarado was getting at. Edward could ignore the big obvious question hanging in the air, but Alvarado would know if he did.

"If I stayed, what would you expect of me?" Edward looked Alvarado directly in the eyes as he asked.

The red irises flashed, amused, and Alvarado brought his hands together in a soft clap. "What I said before. I want to unify this country. I want to keep my wife safe. Simple things."

"What if I don't want to stay?"

"We are not jail keepers, Edward, but if you plan to stick around the South, you'd be safest here."

"I could go north."

"The North is boring." Alvarado wrinkled his nose. The expression almost reminded Edward of Millie.

"It wasn't that bad—not if you were with the right person..."

"If the North is what you need, go. It's a lesson I learned long ago. Sometimes a vampire just needs some time. Time provides its own lessons."

"Are you talking about Isabel?"

"I was talking about myself, but yes, Isabel too." He didn't smile.

"Maybe I'll come back. I don't know."

"We'd still help you. With Carlisle."

"You'd have no obligation."

"We would help for our own reasons. The Northern covens have gotten too frisky for my tastes."

Edward nodded.

(o)(◌)(o)

As they came back to the main chamber, Alvarado leaped to the top of his rock and started barking orders. Guards were ordered to loosen and draw back the perimeter. Teams were ordered into preparation for departure. Besides Edward, no one else seemed surprised.

Edward found Jasper in the back of the chamber with Peter and Charlotte.

"They're mobilizing," Jasper said tonelessly.

"They're unnerved by the Northern covens. They're going after your old home."

Next to Jasper, Peter cringed. He was thinking about his coven-mates that he actually liked.

Jasper, however, was trying to figure out Edward. "They're going to have a hard time getting him out if they're going in with troops."

"There will be a small group—first," Edward said. He tried to hide his guilt, his anxiety, but there was no helping it.

"And you're a part of that group.

"Ines is going to get us in. Hide us. We'll get him out."

"Edward..." Jasper hissed.

"I'm going."

Jasper cast a sharp glance at Peter and Charlotte—who were both looking away, pretending not to be listening, even though they were obviously hearing every word.

"Please," Jasper said. His eyes were wide, intense—begging.

"I have to."

There was silence for a minute, and then Edward felt the bottom go out. The heavy sensation poured down his spine as Jasper turned away. Jasper's voice was so quiet it was a whisper as he said, "If you have to, then you have to."

Edward blinked in shock. He hadn't expected Jasper to—but then he finally realized what Jasper was saying, because Jasper marched away, toward the cavern exit. "Wait—" Edward started to follow him, but Peter grabbed his shoulder.

"Let me go—" Edward tried to shove him off.

"Nah, let him go," Peter insisted. "He'll go sulk, figure out he can't have his way, and then he'll go with you."

"I don't think so..." Edward could feel the trail of Jasper's pain, like the long searing cut of a dagger, disappearing down the cavern tunnel. He was heading up and west.

"Well, I've known him longer, and he can seem all strong, but he's some amalgamation of taffy and spoiled milk, so if you give in now, then—"

"Peter, let me go." Edward shook off Peter's grip. "I won't follow him. I just don't want—" Edward gave up on words.

He didn't look back to see Peter's or Charlotte's faces as he walked away. Their sympathetic thoughts were condescension enough.

Heading in the opposite direction of Jasper's path, Edward went down past Isabel's library. Into the back chambers where they had been before.

Edward sat down on the cold stone floor and made himself inhale long draughts of air. He could still smell the lingering traces of Jasper's scent. Combined with his.

It made him both nostalgic and angry. He crossed his hands over the back of his head and sunk his head between his knees.

Time passed. He knew it did by the slow drip-drip of the water falling from gypsum crystals overhead.

It started up again when the small voice broke the peace.

"Yooooo-hooo."

Millie. Edward decided to pretend she wasn't there.

"Edward. Edward. Ed-Ed-Ed-ward-ward-war."

She kept calling his name, coming closer and closer.

Being annoying was a surprisingly effective strategy. Edward gave up on being quiet, and snapped, "Bug off, Millie."

"You're hiding. What are you hiding from? There's something in there—isn't here? Are there mermaids among the pretty crystals?" Millie sounded quite horrified at the prospect.

"I'm not hiding. I'm enjoying the peace and quiet."

"Oh," Millie said, and Edward looked up to see her frowning disconcertedly at him, like she thought he had really gone off the deep end, but when she saw that she had his attention she grinned. "There's going to be a raid!" she said excitedly.

"Are you going?" Edward asked.

"Nope." She fluffed out her skirt and hopped in front of him, stretching out to grab her toes.

"Did you want to?"

Millie looked thoughtful, before shrugging again. "It doesn't make much sense."

Her thoughts were strange. The images didn't match up. "Do they not trust you or something?"

"No." Millie's smile was positively coy this time.

"Well, I'm part of the team that's going after Carlisle. If you want to help, you can."

Millie, instead of looking eager—looked utterly confused. "But why?"

Edward frowned at her. "I thought you liked Carlisle."

"I do." The image of Carlisle floated to the forefront of her mind, golden and sweet.

Edward shook his head. "Um, if we don't save him Maria will kill him."

"Not yet. She said," She nodded with obscene seriousness.

"You can't believe that. You should come."

"No, silly pretty billy, I'll _wait_." Millie guffawed, flopping her hand through the air.

"_Wait_?"

Now, Millie was looking at him like he was a blathering idiot. "Carlisle is coming _here_."

Edward's entire chest clenched. "What do you mean, _here_?"

Millie shook her head at him, before standing up and reciting, "When a week does pass and you don't come back, the north and south will reach the mouth, and swallow all the fire out."

"The—what? Millie, who told you that?"

"Maria."

Edward's gag reflux kicked in. He finally made himself say, "She's the North, right? In the poem."

"Yuh huh."

"Who's the South?"

"Some of those other covens that Mazzy-face knows."

"They're all going to attack at once?"

Millie frowned, almost like she hadn't considered this.

"A week—" Edward was frantically counting the days."But that's _today_."

Millie crunched the hem of her skirt in her hands as she counted the days. "Uh huh. At midnight."

"But that's impossible. Alvarado would have seen."

Millie shrugged. "You can't see out the window if the curtain is drawn."

"What—that doesn't make sense, Millie. There's no way. How are they going to get in?" Edward demanded, and when Millie didn't answer, Edward leaped to his feet. "Did _you _tell them?"

Millie actually looked offended. "I did not!"

"Then how do they...?"

"They're attacking at the mill," Millie added helpfully. "Mills are nice. Millie mill. Millie. Everyone likes mills and Millies."

Edward's whole body seemed to quake. "Jasper went... Jasper headed west. That's toward... the _mill_."

He cast Millie a final look of horror, and he was on his feet. Down the tunnel. So fast that he was all instinct, all cracked foot prints. More particles awash in the air than solid flesh.

(o)(◌)(o)


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer. I disclaim.

So, right, yeah... here's the next chapter! Thank you's again to ElleCC for beta'ing with her skilled eye and katinki for being vamp-checker extraordinaire. :-)

In news... I feel duty bound to tell you that there **The Vamp Slash Contest** is currently "in voting" (except that voting is temporarily suspended due to FF being stupid, but will be back online soon). Go read the entries. fanfiction (dot) net(slash) ~vampslash

Also, if you feel up to writing a little slashy gift for someone, **The Twilight No Stress Love Fest** is going on. It's a whole lot of slash. Slash slash and more slashy/slash. You can get in on the action at twi-love-fest (dot) livejournal (dot) com/12432 (dot) html

Thank you to all of you for reading. :-) The final chapter (and then the epilogue) should be up soon.

* * *

Chapter 13

(o)(◌)(o)

"I keep such music in my brain  
No din this side of death can quell;  
Glory exulting over pain,  
And beauty, garlanded in hell."  
— Siegfried Sassoon

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward's entrance into the main chamber was heralded by a crash. Two guards blocked him, thinking that he must be intruding. There was a snapping of teeth and a great deal of yelling. Edward was all knees and elbows until a softer snarl sliced through the chamber. A fast hissed series of commands in Spanish followed, and just like that, the two guards were backing away from him. Isabel strode forward, the image of an angel with her golden-eyes and matching dress that draped across the rock floor. She reached for him with both hands, cupping either side of his face.

She didn't speak. Her thoughts were a single trumpeted command: _tell me._

Edward put his hands over hers, as if the contact could help as he tried to explain what Millie had told him. What had happened. What was about to happen. He was racing through Jasper being upset with him. Their fight. Talking to Alvarado. Millie and her mill talk—

"Wait," Isabel whispered aloud. _Back to Alvarado. _

_But Millie. The attack—_Edward started.

_Ines. Stop there. What was Ines doing? _Isabel demanded, and Edward froze as he saw the direction of Isabel's thoughts. She had been suspicious for a while. What Alvarado saw when she was around, and what he claimed to see when she was not around—especially when he went up to the tower with Ines.

Whatever she was looking for in Edward's memories—she found it. Ines in the overlook: Alvarado's mind as he searched for Carlisle. Ines's mind—the subtle shift. Edward had registered it, but he hadn't really been paying attention—he hadn't known what to look for.

"Ines!" She snapped, her voice carrying down the halls. The volume was unnecessary, because Alvarado was entering the chamber with the thin vampire as they spoke.

It only took a half-second. Ines seemed to decode Isabel's expression. He knew.

Before anyone could react, the whole room shifted. What had been walls and floor were no longer. It was like the chamber melted like a honey comb. Edward saw marbled puddles of goo, and spots of light that made him shield his eyes.

At his side, Isabel tapped his hand. _See behind the vision, Edward. Reach._

On his own—his brain seemed to do flips, but when he channeled himself through Isabel's mind—he could see. Ines was running, skipping over guards and rocks, and dashing toward the far exit. The world he was projecting was the facade, his talent. Nothing more. A curtain.

Still, the vampire had a head start on him.

Edward was crouching into a leap, when there was a shrill yelp. Followed by a tumble of rocks.

Edward didn't have to center his mind on Isabel's any longer. His vision was clear.

Millie entered the room, dragging Ines across the floor by his hair. She looked grumpy. "He tried to _push_me."

"He's done more than that," Isabel hissed, striding forward.

Alvarado stepped forward, locking her with a quick grip on the forearm. He was looking from Isabel to Edward to Ines. "_¿__Qué pasa__?_" he asked with a tight, sardonic smile. "Obviously something, no? What, with the abracadabra and all, clearly, you aren't throwing me an early birthday party..."

"We have been betrayed," Isabel said, and Edward cringed as the other vampires in the room gasped and then began to simmer with anger. "Some of the northern and southern covens are mounting an attack—tonight."

Alvarado's mouth was open in an "o," until he looked at Ines's curled form. From his thoughts, Edward couldn't tell whether Alvarado was about to cry or scream or say nothing. Alvarado had liked the little vampire, despite his incessant whining. He'd had much potential. Alvarado took a breath. _It would seem he'd underestimated the brat_. "So, do tell, just who did you sell us to?" Alvarado hummed, tapping his chin in a way that betrayed his fury.

Ines said nothing. His eyes were too fogged.

"Millie, darling, I understand that he was very naughty, deceitful, and _bad _to push you, but I need you to release him, so I can punish him properly," Alvarado said.

Millie beamed girlishly, before drop-kicking Ines so that he flew to the center of the room.

No sooner had Ines gained his balance than the shifting started up again—the melting walls—the floor caving in.

Only to come back again.

Millie was bent over Ines. An irritated smile on her face. "No. No. No. Stop." She had a finger on his clothed shoulder and the other an inch from his nose.

Ines looked furious. He looked ready to snap at Millie's finger, but then his eyes scanned the room. They fell on Alvarado, and his entire face fell.

"Millie is right. _Enough_, Ines. And now you must tell me, _why_?" Alvarado demanded once more. "Why, why, _why_?" His voice was sing-song, but somehow that made him seem more dangerous.

Ines looked down for a second, but then he looked up, looked Alvarado directly in the eyes. His red irises seemed truly inhuman to Edward. "Because," Ines snarled.

"Oh, how profound. Care to elaborate?" Alvarado droned in a mocking tone.

Ines's eyes narrowed in Millie's direction, before he cast a glare at Edward. "Because you're softening. You talk grand, always grand, but you do _nada_, nothing, _nil_. Ever since _she _came back." He spat in Isabel's direction. "You treat me like a picture show—when I'm so much more. I am the most talented vampire here, and you treat me like the clay dust on the soles of your feet!"

Millie gave a huff, losing her fragile patience. She pinched her fingers and flicked Ines's nose.

Ines snapped at her this time, but then Alvarado was over the both of them. There was a flash of teeth, a spray of venom, and a spinning roll... Edward watched as Ines's severed head bumped across the floor until it reached the edge. Edward and the rest of the chamber watched in suspense, as the head reached the edge, teetered back and forth, and then, finally, careened over. There was a single long second of silence before the first hollow bounce, and then the second. There was a longer wait and then final impact of the head succumbing to the lava at the bottom of the ravine. A long sizzle echoed up, and Edward flinched.

The burnt sugar odor made him gasp, suck in a breath, but it also cleared his mind.

_Jasper_.

They were running out of time.

"They're attacking at the mill," Edward said.

"The mill..." Alvarado's nostrils flared, and he looked even more pissed. _Of course they would attack there_—but he gathered himself, straightening his back and marching forward. "We'll send our entire coven." Alvarado gave a single nod of decision and then he was on his rock, barking orders. Rico, take the east channel. Lupe, overhead! _¡__Los otros, ustedes saben sus posiciones!_"

Edward turned to Isabel. She was watching her husband with a smile. Edward grabbed her hand, his whole mind entreating her. "Isabel, Jasper—he's outside. I think he went out by the mill. If they're attacking there—he'll be trapped."

Isabel pivoted to face him in a slow arc. "Edward..." she started, but Edward was already shaking his head.

"No—no—I have to get to him. There has to be a way. He just left. I'm fast. If I run now—"

_Edward, how do you know he hasn't run to them?_

Edward gave her a sour look. "I know. He had no idea about the attack"

She sighed. _Millie knew—and neither you nor I detected it. Not to mention Ines..._

Millie was sitting in the center of the room holding a stick and poking it at the remaining portion of Ines's corpse. She seemed fascinated that by poking his fingers, his toes wiggled. Edward glared at Isabel. _Millie never thought about it, because Millie doesn't care about anything that isn't sparkly or shiny or phallic. But Jasper... Jasper can't not care. So, I would have known._

Isabel looked at him. She looked into his eyes as if she was trying to drill to the center of his brain. Edward watched her mind turn like clock gears, weighing her thoughts on Jasper, on Edward's safety.

She gave a huff, and then it was like her mind opened. _There's one way. It's a shaft that goes out to the west orchard. It comes up under an unused well. No one ever uses it except for emergencies, but..._

Edward didn't wait for another word.

Isabel's thoughts chased him down the tunnel.

(o)(◌)(o)

Edward knew he was in the right place when the torch light disappeared completely, the tunnel narrowed, the air moistened, and finally, there was water sloshing beneath his feet. When he reached the bank, he dove into the reservoir.

He had to feel his way to the surface. He could tell by sound and smell that up above there was light and air. Small blind fish began to flee at his approach and the temperature started to increase as his fingers searched upwards.

When he emerged in the bottom of the well, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust, to check the smells around him for Jasper, for any sign of the attackers. Nothing.

He pulled himself up the stones until he could throw a leg over the top.

Surrounding him were citrus trees. Lemons to the west and orange groves to the south. There was a stream to the east that wound its way down the middle portion of the mountain. The mill was at the base of the mountain.

Jasper should be around. Jasper was somewhere between here and the mill.

Edward threw himself onto the earth and moved ahead with careful steps. He was surprised to find the sun had yet to set. A soft red carpet seemed to roll itself over the volcano and onto the unseen far side. Beneath Edward's feet were soft violet flowers, moist from the well. When he took in a long breath, he caught their floral sweetness first, then the grass, the wet-mineral smells of the hot spring flowing below, and...

Not toward the mill. Up. Higher on the mountain.

Jasper.

Jasper and—other vampires.

Edward closed his eyes. Took a breath. He could do this. _He could do this. _He opened his mind and stretched.

A vampire to the left. A scout. Edward had yet to be noticed, but he ducked and headed right, anchoring the balls of his feet with silent presses into the soil.

There was a knot of newborns between him and the mill. They were eager. Loud, mentally.

When Edward was finally able to hone in on the vampires surrounding Jasper, he realized that most of the minds he didn't recognize. Two were strangers—but one wasn't. One was all too familiar.

Mazatl.

Edward caught his wisps of thought: _thought you could get away with it . . . how history likes to repeat itself, _and then words spoken aloud, "You always loved history, didn't you Jasper?"

He was circling Jasper like a cat playing with its food. Between Mazatl and the other two vampires. Jasper was trapped.

As Edward made his way up the mountain, he felt like a glass marble on the old marble train his uncle had given him as a child: back and forth, back and forth, not to near the edge. He had to keep his speed, if he slowed too much, he'd plummet down the hole—like his old marbles. He could lose. Jasper would lose. It would be game over.

Around him, the trees thinned. The orchard trees ended and tropical evergreens that Edward could not name began to take their places. The temperature dropped, and with the lack of foliage, the wind seemed to carry farther, harder.

Edward realized when he was too close. He had to squat behind a rock, right as the wind swept up. He held his breath and waited in trepidation, as the wind continued on, up and up and reached the glade.

Neither of the newborns noticed it. When the scent hit Mazatl, he turned slightly, _Something about the scent was familiar... _but then without a second thought, he dismissed it... _one of the scouts from the Monterrey coven_. _They all smelled like limestone and fresh blood. _There were so many vampires on the mountain. The smell could have come from anymore.

But Jasper knew.

There was a freezing space, where Jasper's thoughts seemed to twist in upon themselves. Shock—Jasper was feeling shock, Edward realized. Jasper was surprised he'd come after him, and then there was Jasper's thoughts coming directly to him: _Go the fuck away._

Edward almost snorted aloud. All he needed to do was take out one of the two newborns, and then he was pretty sure, he and Jasper would be more than a match for Mazatl and the remaining newborn.

With every ounce of his will, Edward projected his thoughts into emotions. _Yes, I came for you, and there is nothing you can do to stop me._

Whatever emotions he was radiating, it worked.

Jasper's reply was: _You're being dumber than Peter._

Yeah, well. Good enough for Edward.

Still, he had to wait until the breeze was dead. If he went while the wind was carrying his scent there would be no surprise.

The time was nigh. Mazatl was getting tired of arguing with Jasper.

"I'm only asking because Maria asked me to," Mazatl said.

"How kind," Jasper returned. "And I thought it was because you liked my smile."

"Once upon a time," Mazatl clucked, "but now, I fear, you've lost my interest."

"And now why's that? Was it that little bite down yonder?" Jasper's eyes were narrowed lazily on a small ring between his thumb and his index finger.

Mazatl's voice lost all the pleasantness of before. "Do you know what I do to my enemies? I take off small chunks, grind the flesh into a pile of sweet-smelling ash. Sometimes faster. Sometimes slower. But for you—I'd let you burn in small pieces for moons upon moons. Nothing would make me happier."

"Aw, but Maria would miss me." Jasper's voice was light, but he was keenly aware of the fact that both of the newborns on either side had taken a step closer to him.

"You're expendable," Mazatl sneered, but then his thoughts become more calculated. "She was ready to give you up the last time—and you were much more _valuable_then."

"Uhhhh-huh," Jasper answered in a bored tone.

Mazatl paused, as if weighing his words, and then he said, "When Lucy and Nettie split... you were so naive as to think that she didn't know about their plans. But she knew everything. The only question was over whether or not you were going to side with them."

"Whatever—she _pretends _to know everything—I was the one who informed her that Lucy and Nettie were splitting."

"No. Don't fool yourself. She knew. I told her. Lucy had tried to gain my support. Such naivety. But we were talking about _your _loyalties. Fickle little things that they are. Because you did tell Maria, in the end, but you almost didn't... did you?" Mazatl wasn't looking at Jasper. He's scanning the tree line in a bored fashion. His fingernail was slicing between the gaps in his teeth. There was a bit of lingering flesh that tickled his gums.

Edward expected Jasper to make another brush off. But Jasper didn't. Instead Jasper's mind was like before, like when they were in the dark corner of the cavern and Jasper was trying to change his mind. Jasper, once again, was afraid.

Mazatl talked on. "What was his name, that captain from your old squad? Jossiah? Joshua?"

Jasper's mouth set into a hard line, but his mind made the silent correction. _Joss._

"You wanted to change him," Mazatl sighed dramatically, "but Maria wouldn't let you."

"I wasn't going to change him," Jasper's voice is hoarse. "He didn't want to be changed."

"But Lucy and Nettie offered to change him for you."

"And when I said, _no_, they killed him. He was my..." …_best friend, Jasper finished the sentence in his head, _and Edward detected the hint of great sadness, of something much deeper.

"Did they?" Mazatl smiled at Jasper. He swiped his tongue across his top teeth.

"I know they did," Jasper hissed.

"You weren't so good with your little talent then. You _thought _you were, but were you, really? When Maria told you that Lucy had savaged your human friend in vengeance, if she said that Nettie had twisted his entrails in her fingers—would you have detected any deception? Would you have known the difference between what you wanted to hear and what you heard?"

Jasper froze at the same time that the wind dropped to nothing. The whole mountain froze. Edward could see Jasper's face in the minds' of Mazatl and the newborns. They were just waiting to see where the first fault line would show. Knees bent, ready to attack.

Edward attacked first.

He moved in the way that Jasper had taught him: Low to the floor. Arms open on either side for balance. Don't lunge until the last second. Even as Edward took that final step and leaped, he was perfectly aware that the newborn wouldn't register his presence until teeth were around his neck.

Edward tore the newborn's neck out with a clean rip. His hands were still gripping the frozen shoulders when the others in the glade finally realized Edward was a threat.

Mazatl hissed, leaping for Edward at the same time that the other newborn went for Jasper.

Mazatl came at him from the side. Despite his sand-washed pallor, the old bastard was fast. He wasn't Jasper-fast, but Edward had to use the body in his arms as a shield, blocking Mazatl's try for his shoulder. Mazatl missed on the bite, but his leg came around—not catching Edward, but kicking at the dangling leg of the corpse, which swung back with a crunch and slammed into Edward's knee. He skidded back, barely keeping his balance.

To his left, Edward saw that the newborn gunning for Jasper was a barely-trained fool. He came at Jasper with his arms outstretched and seemed somewhat surprised when Jasper skipped forward and ripped his hand from his wrist. There was a guttural howl of pain. The newborn stumbled, gripping his hand, and then there was another sharper shriek of pain. Edward didn't need to look to know that Jasper had dispatched him.

Matazl stood trapped between Jasper and Edward. His eyes searched for exits for a frenzied moment, analyzing possibilities—but then, he stopped. He smiled grimly, crossed his arms, and said, "Isn't this pleasant? I thought young Edward was smarter than this."

"_Young Edward_would be happy to rip your head off," Edward snarled.

"I see," said Mazatl with a smirk, and then he turned to Jasper with a leer. "I _see_."

Edward closed his eyes as Jasper attacked.

Step right. Step left. Step left. Twist and strike. Jasper caught him in the knee. He blocked Mazatl's snap at his shoulder with a head butt, and then there was the dip of the knee, and Jasper's elbow came down on top of Mazatl's shoulder blade, slamming him down onto the mountain rocks. Pinning him. Biting into cold flesh.

When Edward opened his eyes again, Mazatl red eyes were looking at him upside down. His corpse was slumped on top of the dead newborn that Jasper had killed.

Jasper wasn't looking at Edward. "Ordinarily, I'd say we shouldn't draw attention with a fire. But..." He rocked Mazatl's head from side to side in disgust. "...I never want to see this bastard smile at me ever, ever again."

Edward didn't say anything

Jasper stooped down to gather dry leaves and grass in a smile pile. He took out two stones from his back pocket and cracked them together. There were sparks and then a short sizzle. The grass started to burn. Jasper scooped up the smile pile with two sticks and he piled it on top of Mazatl's back. The back of his shirt caught, and that burnt sugar smell again and... flesh. Edward covered his mouth, stopped breathing. Still, the stench seemed to creep in.

"Get the other one, would ya?" Jasper asked.

Together they dragged the corpses over to the flames. They were taller now, hotter. Edward threw the body on the pyre, and then backed away quickly. Jasper did the same.

They stood there, watching the flames as the night darkened.

"We should get going," Jasper said. "They'll have noticed the flames. Not to mention the smell."

Jasper didn't say anything else as he grabbed Edward's hand and pulled him away. Away from the blue-orange of the flames, and back down the mountain.

The night was dead silent as they moved. Their ears were trained. They nostrils were flared as they took in the smells. They walked until they were closer to where Edward had come from... by the ruins of an old adobe cottage upstream from the well.

Jasper leaned against the stone wall, seeming to study the details of the structure until he turned and looked at Edward. They looked each other in the eyes for the first time since Jasper had left.

Jasper's mind had been spinning the entire walk. He'd been replaying his memories from the past. Memories he'd tried to forget. He was wondering about Maria. Why she'd sent Mazatl. What was the card she had up her sleeve—Maria always had a card up her sleeve. Hell, half the time, she had half the deck. As they'd neared the cottage, Jasper thoughts had shifted again. He'd been thinking about Edward's face as he'd charged into the glade.

Jasper didn't say the word aloud, but he did hold Edward's gaze and say, _Sorry._

"I'm glad you're okay," Edward said.

"You shouldn't have come after me," Jasper said, scuffing thin grass with his heel.

"I missed you," Edward said.

Jasper smiled. A real smile, as he realized that Edward was saying the exact words to him that he had said to Edward at the bottom of the cliff. "I don't understand," Jasper said back, in a very, very stupid imitation of Edward's voice. Or at least Edward thought so.

Still, it was enough for Edward to reach forward and clasp Jasper's hand. He slid the fingers between his own, and gripped. "I really did. When I found out they were attacking…"

The reminder made Jasper scan the countryside again. "We're sorta idiots," Jasper said. "There's a war going, and we're lollygagging."

"Yeah, but I need this first," Edward said, and he pulled on Jasper's arm until Jasper was drawn against him. They didn't kiss, just buried their faces into each other's necks, breathing each other in. Jasper smelled like he always did—but stronger, sweeter. Edward wondered if it was the empath leaking out, or if it was really just Jasper's smell.

Edward shivered when Jasper licked at the crescent on Edward's shoulder. Edward played with Jasper's hair. Mindless. Sweet. Edward didn't want the moment to end.

It was after some time that Jasper's thoughts started to elevate. He was thinking about what Mazatl had said—about Joss.

"Do you believe him? Mazatl?" Edward asked.

Jasper tensed, but then he relaxed again. He bent over and pressed a kiss on Edward's temple. "No reason not to. Well, it's more than that. It makes sense. Way too much fucking sense."

"It does?"

"There's a reason that Peter isn't an ash pile on the Monterrey plains. After the coup, after everything was sorted and done, and Lucy had her head on stick, and Joss was another dead human, Maria told me I could choose to keep one of the newborns. As a concession." Jasper snorted. "I think she'd thought I'd choose the dumb little blond, but I didn't. I chose Peter."

"That must have confused her... but it makes sense. To me, anyway."

"People underestimate Peter. He's so much silly that people ignore the deeper stuff."

"I know," Edward said, but Jasper didn't seem to hear him.

"He's the one that convinced me to come after you, when you and Charlotte first got trapped in the coven. He told me we had to go after you two, and I told him going after you all meant we were going to die, but Peter said, 'Ain'tcha already dead?' And I clobbered him with a stick, but then he took one of the broken pieces of stick and started drawing out tombstones in the sand and then writing our names between the lines: Jasper Whitlock, R.I.P., Edward Masen, R.I.P., Peter... and so on, but then I started looking at the letters, and... I... I—fuck—I don't know. I guess I said fuck it."

"You missed me," Edward said.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Jasper groaned, "But more than that, I realized I didn't care if they got me. Because about most things, I really couldn't give a shit. I train newborns, I hunt, I read books. Put up with Maria, but none of that really mattered. I didn't really matter. What mattered was that you didn't get your ass caught in another shit-fest, and that Peter got to be happy."

"You do matter. I—" Edward started, the words were on his tongue, but Jasper stopped him.

"Just wait. Just let me finish."

"Fine then."

"Well... I guess it's just that Peter has a way of seeing things. That's all."

"That was your finish?"

"Uh huh."

"Am I like him?" Edward asked.

"You mean Joss?"

Edward nodded.

"Nope. He really was just... a friend. My best friend." Jasper smiled weakly. "And he was shorter than you—much more competent with a gun and horse. Couldn't read, actually. But I told you one of my few human memories was of an orange grove. That wasn't entirely true. Most of the memories that I kept after I was changed were of him. I wanted to change him."

"But Maria said, 'no,'" Edward said.

But Jasper shook his head. "Yeah, she did. But that didn't matter. I waited until I thought I could change him myself and then went after him. He was back home then... married to a girl the next town down river. Abigail. We'd both had a crush on her when we were younger. The two of them weren't rich. Poor, more like, but... I looked in the window and he was stuffing his face with hot rolls and over-sulfured molasses, and she was singing over the stove, canning pears. Nothing ground-breaking, but it was enough. Enough to understand that he wouldn't want... this." Jasper batted his hand at the air. "So I left."

"So, you didn't… I mean you weren't attracted to him?"

"Maybe I could have been—but mostly I wanted him to be happy."

"You know—about Carlisle—he is just my friend."

"Your friend wants to be more than friends. I watched him slobber down your throat—so if you think—"

"It doesn't matter." Edward grabbed Jasper's arm. "I want you. Just you. I just want him to be safe. That's all. You need to trust me."

Jasper narrowed his eyes at Edward. "He ain't bad looking—and you seem to like blonds—I'm not sure that—"

Instead of punching Jasper, Edward kissed him, slamming him back against the adobe bricks of the cottage until the unsteady structure started to make angry noises at the pressure. They had to stop kissing when a large clump of rotten thatch collapsed on top of them.

"I think we'd better get going," Jasper said, brushing muck out of his hair.

Edward nodded and then he waited, because he didn't know if...

In front of him, Jasper halted and turned back with an expression of disbelief. "You aren't sure where we're going?"

"We'd be walking into a battle," Edward hedged.

Jasper snorted. "I'm a soldier. You're a little solider in training. So, let's do our duty and go save Shakespeare. That way we'll help out your creepy-queen friend, give Millie a spanking, and I'll stake Maria while I'm at it."

"I'm not a 'little soldier,'" Edward complained, but he was smiling as he ran up beside Jasper.

"Rinky-fucking-dink," Jasper said as he slapped Edward's ass and ran forward. Edward caught up with him in two strides, smacked his back, and they were off.

(o)(◌)(o)


	14. Chapter 14

a/n: This is the final chapter, but there will be a short epi. Katinki and ellecc were amazing in helping me. Love you all.

* * *

Chapter 14

(o)(◌)(o)

Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does.  
Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.  
—James A. Baldwin

(o)(◌)(o)

The trip back to the well was made with silent steps and noses attuned to the tang of the wind. Edward wondered if their caution was necessary, what with his and Jasper's talents giving them bird's eye views, so to speak, but they did it anyway.

Jasper's hand gripped his. Though he didn't make a sound, there was the constant slip of errant thoughts from Jasper. _Nothing but dust... He smiled again. They'll only come this way if they haven't attacked yet... Don't over-think it. Don't. _Combined with the occasional comforting squeeze, it made Edward relax his shoulders, focus on the straight ahead. Listen. Smell.

By the time they reached the border of the well, night had coated the landscape with its dark blue filter. Nothing stirred in the forest around them. Not the trees. No flies swarmed or bees buzzed. Not even the softest breeze. They climbed down the old column, gripping the slick mossy stones with their fingers and toes. Edward went first, holding the stone until his heels were grazing the dank surface. When Jasper called the coast clear, they both made small splashes, disappearing with ripples that fled to the surface as they descended into the wet dark.

They were out of the water in seconds. Jasper was dripping, pushing his darkened hair out of his eyes. As Edward watched, he shook his head, flinging droplets in all directions. Two small dots pinged Edward on the cheek. He ignored them, letting them dribble down toward his chin, because despite the almost-darkness of the cavern, Jasper was easy to see. Edward could see the arc of his shoulders, the broad slope of his back, the swells of his hip bones that hollowed before rounding into hard thighs—

"Would you fucking focus?" Jasper _rudely _interrupted.

"I'm focused," Edward said. He shook his hair out, raised his arms high over his head, so that his whole torso stretched.

Jasper pretended not to pay attention, but as he strode past Edward, he hesitated for a half-second. Edward thought Jasper might kiss him—but then Jasper knew what Edward wanted—so instead he slapped Edward's ass, muttering a mixture of syllables under his breath.

Edward didn't hide his smile.

"Stop being cocky," Jasper said.

"I'm being cocky?" Edward asked, catching up and pressing his hand against the small of Jasper's back. Then he lowered his hand. Just a little bit.

Jasper didn't answer him. Verbally. He was trying to ignore Edward.

Trying.

They'd gotten maybe a mile farther—Edward wasn't really counting—when Jasper's resolve cracked. Edward found himself slammed against the cavern wall, his shoulders pinned as Jasper stood in front of him. Edward was no small amount pleased with himself.

Jasper did not miss this. "You—are—such—a pain in the..." He didn't get to finish the sentence because Edward launched a counter assault, grabbing the hair at the back of Jasper's neck and levering their faces so that he stopped that stupid talking business—with his tongue.

Jasper jerked his face away. "We really shouldn't be doing this now," he said.

His body was flush against Edward's as he said this, so it wasn't Edward's fault that he couldn't really find it in himself to take Jasper seriously. "Maybe we should," he argued, if somewhat lamely, but then he jerked Jasper's hips against his—and the feeling that surged down their spines was far from lame.

"Why's that?" Jasper's question came out hoarse.

"We're going to fight your old coven—and whomever else. I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure they aren't planning on sitting... down to tea. We're going to fight," Edward said, but his voice fell off at the end. He hadn't really even thought about it himself. He'd just been marching along, focused on Jasper. He hadn't truly considered the consequences. That they could... That Jasper could—that he could lose him.

Edward pulled Jasper against him.

Jasper let himself be hugged, but then he pushed back enough so that he could catch Edward eye-to-eye. "Nothing to worry about. You start to get overwhelmed, just take a long deep breath and focus—on my ass—it'll work," Jasper said, winking.

"I'm serious." Edward looked away.

"Don't be." Jasper slid his hands down Edward's sides. "Whatever you say—you're a pain in the ass to catch. You're fast. You can see their moves before they make them—and even if you're not exactly sure what they're doing—you can still move the opposite direction, making you near impossible to catch, and with the way we fight, that's the most important thing."

"Ciro caught me."

"In a three-on-one, but in a one-on-one..." Jasper dipped in for a kiss, and then another before holding Edward's gaze and smiling. "That's what's so funny about you. You act like the whole world is about to eat you, when really you're the most dangerous creature in the room. It's sorta cute, like watching a wolf being afraid of a Labrador retriever."

"I—drink—wolves."

"I _know_," Jasper grimaced, "but the _analogy _holds."

Edward punched Jasper where his kidney used to be. Or maybe still was. Carlisle would know.

"Didn't hurt," Jasper said, and then he sunk his nails into Edward's ass—which did hurt.

"You—"

"Yes, me."

Jasper's fingers were lifting up Edward's shirt, and whatever focus there had been on getting back to the fight among the covens—it wasn't in Jasper's mind right now.

"You want to...?" Edward bent his neck back to give Jasper better access to the spot his tongue was licking.

Jasper didn't speak. He kept on kissing Edward's neck, but then his thoughts were clear in Edwards mind. _You were the one who worried about us dying._

"So, we're going to..."

Jasper stopped kissing him, grabbed his chin, and stared into his eyes."We have unfinished business, you and I."

"Um, what do you mean by unfinished business?" They weren't ghosts.

Jasper's answering smile was very, very sinful. "Tit for tat. You fucked me, and now I'm going to fuck you—and you're going to like it even more."

"Ah." Edward's throat was dry. He was trying to come up with an argument against Jasper, but he was coming up with... nothing.

"Ahhh?"

"I thought _I_was wolf."

Jasper regarded him for a second. "I said you were a wolf who didn't know he was wolf. I never—"

Jasper grabbed Edward's hips. "—said—"

He flipped Edward back against the wall. "—I was a fucking Labrador."

This time Edward didn't complain as Jasper's yanked off his shirt and backed him up against the cold stone. He didn't skirt away when his trousers were raked down to his knees or when Jasper palmed his ass with an excited groan or ground against him while bracing his shoulders and nibbling at his neck.

When Jasper licked at his bottom lip, and whispered "spit," Edward spit into Jasper's palm. Not only did Edward stay still as Jasper's slick finger pushed in, but he solicited the motion, pushing back as Jasper pushed in, saying, "_Yes, like that. More_."

When the finger was gone, and the hard yet spongy head of Jasper's cock pressed at his entrance, Edward inhaled one long, ragged breath with the movement. As Jasper slid in, it was with a long groan and unintelligible nonsense being muttered into Edward's ear, while his whole body vibrated with the force of Jasper's power. It was... incredible. Edward's eyes went out of focus; his muscles melted like wax inside his body.

Buried in him, Jasper whispered, "I told you you'd like it even better."

Part of Edward wanted to make some witty rejoinder, but he wasn't fucking capable. Instead he croaked out a barely audible, "_Move_."

Jasper complied. Back and forth, Jasper pushed into him, and with his cheek pressed against the wall, Edward gave. Again and again and again, until Edward couldn't feel the wall or the floor or the ceiling. Until there existed only arms squeezing him so tight that he couldn't remember his own name. Until there was just _Jasper_, _Jasper_, and _Jasper_.

(o)(◌)(o)

Afterwards, Edward almost regretted it. Almost. He regretted it because he had to stop touching Jasper in order to pull his own trousers back on, and even if he could touch Jasper's chest as he laced up the front of Jasper's shirt, Edward still had to move his fingers up and down. On and off. Less and more. Not enough. Not enough when what he wanted was to pull Jasper into the deepest and darkest corner of the caverns and stay there until the madness was over. Maybe forever.

Hadn't he been _eager _to march off to the fight an hour ago?

He felt like a pathetic coward, because now he didn't want to march off to fight. Edward didn't want to have to let go of Jasper's hands, his skin, and definitely didn't want to contemplate the idea that he could lose Jasper.

Jasper could die.

"Hey," Jasper soothed, his arms wrapping around Edward's back.

The touch helped for a second, but then the rest of Edward's mind rebelled on him, and he realized how stupid he had been because the simple fact was that he fallen. For Jasper. Totally and completely, and now he was well and truly fucked.

"What the hell is going on in that noggin of yours?" Jasper asked, fake-knocking on the side of Edward's head.

"You don't know?"

Jasper didn't say anything. He just looked at Edward. His thoughts were slanted again, almost as confusing as Edward's.

"We should get going..." Edward said.

"We should, but..."

"But let's go."

(o)(◌)(o)

It was Edward's fault they got ambushed. The tunnel they were following had forked, and they couldn't go the way that Edward had gone before—there were unfamiliar smells there now.

"Could be capital guards?" Jasper asked.

"I don't think so..." Edward was pretty sure it was one of the attacking covens.

Jasper nodded before sniffing the air once again, futilely. "The other two are clearly capital. They smell the same."

"Which one do we take?"

Jasper frowned at him. "Depends on which one gets us back the fastest—without trouble."

"We could split up?" Edward offered.

Jasper frowned again, but then he weighed what Edward said. "Well, the vision-shifter is dead, yeah?"

"Yeah, Ines is dead."

"So as long as you keep your telepathic tuning forks going—we should be all right. Just..."

Edward finished Jasper's thought. "—be careful. You, too. Middle is out, so right or left?"

"You hang to the right, so off you go."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Fine. The tunnel shouldn't be more than a mile, soo..."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

"Fine."

"Fine," Jasper said, smiling, and then without saying goodbye or even giving him a proper kiss, he ran down the left tunnel.

Gone. Poof. Vamoose. Just like that.

Edward took a long breath. Inhaled the scents around him—then made himself stop, because the strongest scent was Jasper's and that was not helping. He turned to face the right tunnel. It was a perfect twin to the left. He walked in.

About two minutes in, he felt the temperature change. He searched about until he found a hole leading upward. He didn't think he'd seen it on the way in. But then, he'd been moving so fast. So far the coast was clear, but... He opened his mind.

Nothing.

No stray thoughts in the area.

He picked up his speed. He was just about at the mile marker when the tunnel split again. This time there were other scents. No thoughts of foe in the area, but definitely the scents of other vampires. The only problem was that he couldn't tell if they were the scents of the capital coven or the foreign covens. There were no scents he recognized.

Regardless, it was time to go back. He'd find out what Jasper had come across, and then they'd plan from there.

He was turning around when he heard it. A faint sound. High pitched, like a scream. With the random caverns, it could have come from miles away in the cave system.

Still, Edward ran.

He was closing in on the fork when there was a stirring in the back of his mind—but then the warning was meaningless. Rocks crumbled in front of him, and a human-shaped figure rose up in front of him, blocking his path. He almost thought it was Jasper, but then he heard the swift whooshes of air and then the bracing of feet upon stone behind him. One pair. Two. Edward's mind flashed to the hole he'd passed under. They'd caught his scent. They'd waited, and he'd popped right into their trap.

In front of him, he recognized the vampire blocking the tunnel. Ciro. His dull scent filled the chamber. Despite the darkness, Edward knew an ugly sneer was framing the bottom half of Ciro's face.

"Ed-ward," Ciro said in a thick accent.

Edward didn't say anything. He braced himself. Behind him, the other two vampires shuffled their feet. They were waiting for a command. It came.

"He's one of them," Ciro said in Spanish, but Edward understood.

They all came at him at once. Luckily, two of them—the two that had not been trained by Jasper—leaped. They flew right over him in the air—fingers clawing and snatching but catching nothing. Idiots. You couldn't change direction in the air as fast as you could on the ground. Basic tactics. Edward caught the slower one by the ankle and flung him down the tunnel.

Ciro, on the other hand, came at him low and fast, arms spread wide.

Edward backed up as Ciro came forward, keeping distance between them—and behind him, when the other vampire regained her footing, Edward faked a left while leaping for the ceiling in the next instant.

The female sailed right into Ciro. With a croak and a snarl, they smashed into the cave wall.

Edward would have taken advantage of their fall—but the vampire that Edward had thrown was back. He didn't lunge this time—he ran straight at Edward. Edward dodged at the last second, tripping him, before sinking his teeth in. He closed his eyes, pushed with his hands, and ripped.

There was a snarl as the female tried to stop him. Her nails swiped at his shoulder but missed. He threw the body at her—but she knocked it aside—angling to get behind him.

"Better and better," Ciro chided in a thick accent. He was taking slow steps to block Edward any escape route.

"Better than you," Edward said with a fake smile.

Ciro gave a deep laugh. It seemed to rumble up and down the tunnel, seemed to shake the whole mountain. Both Ciro and the female were taking slow steps, closer and closer. There would be no sudden rushing this time. They intended to box him in.

Edward's eyes searched the tunnel. The hole above was too far away for him to go up. He'd have to get past Ciro. If he did, he could outrun them. Get to Jasper.

"Ah, you look for him," Ciro said, stepping closer. "But he's not there. He's a... a'gone."

Edward's throat went impossibly drier.

Ciro laughed at his expression. But that wasn't what scared Edward—what scared Edward was what he saw in Ciro's mind. Jasper being slammed up against the wall. Jasper trying to push away a large newborn—but the shapes closing in upon him.

No. Edward shook his head. No. No.

He charged at Ciro.

The move was more stupid than bold—but Ciro hadn't expected it. Edward managed to smash him into the back wall. Their arms were locked when Edward felt the female fly toward him. He back-kicked, which blocked her, but then Ciro got better leverage and twisted him away so that his elbow was locked behind him, and his throat was far too exposed as the female came at him again.

He kneed Ciro, freeing his arm, managing yet again to send the female staggering back, but then Ciro grabbed his hair. He yanked Edward back, and Edward knocked his hand away—but then Ciro was gripping both of his hands, pushing him. Even if they were nearly matched in strength due to age—Ciro was physically bigger and the tiniest bit younger, so bit by bit Ciro managed to force Edward against the wall.

"Sofia, _ahora_," Ciro called to the female in a strained tone. Edward was pinned. All Sofia had to do was bite, and—

Sofia didn't get to bite.

She was there, the fever of the kill bright in her eyes, and then she was gone—a twist of black spinning down the cave tunnel, snarling as she tried to beat back a new attacker.

Jasper.

Ciro made a lunge for Edward's throat. Edward head-butted him. Ciro's teeth managed to nick his jaw—but Edward got a solid kick into his ankle—so that Ciro had to step back to balance.

Farther down the cave, the female decided to make a run for it. In Edward and Ciro's direction.

_I got him. You get her, _came Jasper's command.

Edward lunged off the wall. Sofia dived to avoid him, but he caught her under the chin. They rolled down the tunnel, smashing along slimy ripples of stone until Edward stopped them. Then she was kicking at him, but he avoided each attempt. He knocked her off her feet with a single well-placed kick. There was a single flash of fear in her eyes when she fell. Then Edward lunged and bit down. Then Sofia was dead, too.

Down the tunnel, Jasper almost looked like he was dancing. Right-left. Left-right. Ciro was already missing some fingers on his left hand. Still, he held both hands out, trying to use his strength, but it was almost like a perfect replay of the last time Edward had watched them fight. Ciro tried to outmaneuver Jasper, but ended up maneuvering himself right back against the cave wall.

Jasper did a double-fake, punched Ciro's shoulder, and then the vampire was down. Jasper dipped his head, and the metal-ripping sound once again echoed down the tunnel. Jasper's teeth let go, and Ciro's large nose seem to grow even larger as it whizzed down the tunnel toward Edward.

They stared at each other for a long second.

"He could never stay off the wall," Jasper said, staring down the tunnel to where Ciro's head had slowed to a halt.

Edward cringed.

"Aw, don't tell me that wasn't fun?" Jasper said.

Edward's jaw fell. "Fun? I thought they killed you."

"No. I got a bit banged up in the other tunnel—but nothing I couldn't handle. Just a few bites." He held out his wrist with a frown.

Edward walked up to examine it. Right along the knob of Jasper's wrist bone there was a new shining line. As far as Jasper-scars went, it was far from the worst. Edward kissed the spot, running his tongue over the wound.

"And that asshole got you," Jasper said, in a voice that was so silly, it almost sounded like he was cooing. He reached up to touch the spot on Edward's jaw.

Edward flinched. It did sting.

"Oh, well, he's dead now," Jasper said and shrugged.

Edward glanced down the tunnel to where Ciro's body lay. He couldn't deny he wasn't sad to see the end of the male. He took a breath to steady himself, and said, "Right, so now..."

"We'll smoke 'em, and head on up. They're going to need us up there."

"Oh," Edward said, taking in Jasper's demeanor. "You really do think this is fun, don't you?"

"Saving your ass is always fun." Jasper kissed Edward on the spot on his jaw, but then he frowned. "This part less so," he said, as he fished a match out of his pocket. He stared down at what appeared to be the remains of Ciro's finger with disgust. "Part of me wishes we could put him back together just so we could kick his ass a second ti—"

"Jasper!" Edward hissed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jasper grumbled. There was the scratch of flint and a glow erased the blind dark of the tunnel. Jasper dropped the match, and that horrible scent flooded Edward's nostrils yet again.

(o)(◌)(o)

Weirdly, Edward started to think the whole battle-to-the-death thing was kind of fun, too.

At least while they were winning.

They joined up with some of the capital coven guards on one of the upper tunnels that led out to the mill. Edward recognized the leader from the day he was first brought in. It was the vampire with thick brows—Rico. Rico's guards were fighting a pack of newborns that seemed to be completely ravaging their ranks. But Edward and Jasper's joining the fight turned the tide.

He and Jasper worked side-by-side. Jasper led. He could issue clear commands in Edward's head. Edward would block and pin, and then Jasper would swoop in for the kill. Sometimes Jasper let Edward do the ending himself. Other times, especially when Edward started to get overwhelmed, Jasper went straight for their necks.

After a while, Edward almost started to understand why Jasper could possibly find it fun. It wasn't the killing. It was them, how they worked together. It was the way Jasper and he moved so effortlessly through the melee. It was the way Jasper laughed when a newborn made to grab Edward and only caught air. Or how Jasper could be in the lock of some snarling, over-sized hellion, only to have a dumbfounded look come over the attacker's face as Jasper's power distracted him. Some of them were so easily overwhelmed that they died with a goofy smile still stretched across their faces.

It was fun because they were good. Because Edward could focus on Jasper and Jasper would guide him to the next attack. Because Jasper would grab his shoulders after a particularly fierce set of attacks and kiss him with the mighty stupor of victory. And maybe, just maybe, Edward thought it was fun because Jasper was mad-crazy, and Edward couldn't help but be infected by the insanity.

They reached the throne room almost by accident. The noises behind them had been getting louder. Jasper and Edward were at the front of the line, fighting back the crush of newborns, while the guards managed their flanks—but there were so many. Edward recognized two or three from the caverns of Monterrey. Those newborns seemed to go directly for Jasper, as if recognizing the greatest threat. They were also the ones who died the quickest.

Edward smelled the brimstone scents of the throne room as they retreated into the wider space. His feet slid on the venom that was puddled on the floor. Body parts were everywhere. There were strange blackened spots on the ground, too—tar-like pools that seemed to radiate heat.

Edward was still trying to figure out what the puddles were when he heard Rico yell, "A'back!" and yanked him backwards behind a large stone. Edward pulled his feet back as a sudden downpour of red hot lava dropped from above, hitting the small group of enemies that had been blocking them. The vampires didn't even get a chance to scream—they were there, and then they were melted. Bright white dots in the red-black gush.

"The wall ledge will be cool enough, just a'watch your _deditos_, no?" Rico said, and he waved Jasper and Edward ahead.

They ran in, skirting along the wall. Edward's eyes tried to sort out the room, but it was impossible. Above—giant stone cauldrons were throwing lava bombs on captured tunnels.

"So, where to next?" Jasper asked.

"Well..." But then he caught the scent in the air. Warm, familiar and faint.

"Carlisle..." Edward whispered the name.

"He's not here." Jasper was watching his face. He was trying to stay neutral, supportive.

Edward nodded. "I can't feel his mind."

Jasper grabbed his hand and they moved forward. They didn't try to take anyone down. They moved side-by-side through the fracas, searching out the narrower tunnel at the back of the room. They were almost there when Edward spotted Peter and Charlotte, lurking by the edge of the lava cliff.

Edward watched as Peter leaped out, grabbing the attention of three approaching attackers. At the sight of them, his hands flew to his face. He shrieked—loud and piercing enough to make Edward want to cover his ears—and more than enough to pose himself as any easy target.

The trio came at him at once. Peter did not try to move away. His jaw dropped as if he had not expected this sudden change in events, but at the last second, he leaped back, onto the opposing wall. The trio attacking had ample time to catch their balance on the edge of the ravine—except that Charlotte was behind them. She kicked out with one long, round swipe.

The vampires never knew what hit them. They plummeted into the fiery depths.

Peter leaped back towards her, and as Edward watched, Peter lifted up her hand and kissed it.

"You're the best battle partner—" he started, but then he saw Edward and Jasper. "Oh! Oh!" Peter was hopping and getting dangerously close to the edge. "You found him."

Charlotte gently nudged Peter away from the precipice.

"Have you seen Carlisle?" Edward asked.

"No—but—" Peter frowned. "We were in the caverns—we just got here. I thought I smelled Maria, though. She's here."

Edward turned to Jasper. "If she was here, she'd be..."

Jasper finished his sentence. "Going after Isabel or Alvarado—but I'd put my money on Isabel."

Edward didn't have to be asked. He closed his eyes. He reached with his mind, searching the whole chamber. At first, it was all fire and smoke—like being caught in the oven. But then it was like he found the one bright spot. _Isabel_, he mentally yelled.

Her responding voice was almost a scream in his mind: _Library. Come now._

"Library," Edward said aloud.

Peter and Charlotte joined them. They sprinted along the wall. As they were passing one tunnel entrance, one of the guards was thrown backwards, and Edward had to step over him, knocking the attacking newborn away from his neck—and against the wall. Jasper finished the newborn. Then the guard was back on his feet, and they were finally at the narrow entrance to the library.

The smells hit him at once: Maria. Isabel. Millie. Carlisle.

Edward stopped at the entrance to the room. A fight was underway. Small bits of paper were floating like feathers throughout the room. Edward jerked back as a bookshelf careened in front of him. He pushed it aside, and then he saw. Not a fair fight. He recognized five of the newborns as being from the Monterrey coven. On the opposite side of the room were two guards—Isabel—Millie—and—

Carlisle was next to Millie. He was slumped against the stone hearth, eyes closed, looking like death, and that's when Edward saw the gash on his arm. The wound was closed, but Edward could distinguish the wide gleam of the ellipse. Carlisle needed blood, but they hadn't given him any, and that's why he was so weak.

At Carlisle's side, Millie was clutching his hand, and there was an expression on her features that Edward had never seen before. Gone was the mischievous glint of her normal expression—the tiny vampire looked livid.

The moment she caught Edward's eye, the two capital guards went down as the newborns overwhelmed them. The last newborn sprang at Isabel—only to be blocked—not by Isabel—but by Maria.

"She's mine," Maria hissed, but then she froze. Her nostrils flared and she fixed her gaze on Edward, Jasper, Peter, and Charlotte. She took a step back, and the newborns with her fell into formation around her. "Oh, look who decided to show," Maria said, "my little pack of _turncoats_."

Peter waved. Charlotte smacked his hand down.

"We missed ya," Jasper said lightly, but his hand was almost crushing Edward's with his grip.

"And I missed you—although, it seems you're standing on the wrong side of the fight. Care to step over?"

Jasper stared at her. He swallowed once before giving her a bitter smile. "I'm afraid I can't oblige."

"Such manners." Maria's voice was ice.

Isabel broke the silence. "You're outmatched. You should surrender." She spoke more to the newborns surrounding Maria than to Maria. "If you lower your heads, you shall be granted amnesty."

"Very funny," Maria snapped. "We're not outmatched. Six against five." She didn't spare a glance for Millie. Apparently, based upon whatever had happened before Edward and Jasper had arrived, Maria had decided Millie was neutral. "And don't pretend you are some _angelita_—I know better."

"Angel I am not—but there's a word for a woman who takes another woman's husband and f—" Isabel cut herself off, but she was seething. She knew that Maria was baiting her, but she couldn't help it. Seeing the images in Maria's head, her history with Alvarado, was making it worse.

"He chose me—made me—after you were too weak to follow the conquest."

This Isabel did not deny. There was the memory of her shock—of when Alvarado had confessed everything to her on the black steps of the mountain. _I watched you every day. I saw that you were happy. That you were adjusting. I wasn't. I couldn't adjust. I couldn't take it. I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to forget. I was so angry. _Isabel was calm again when she spoke with her chin held high. The depth of her voice reminded Edward of a priestess.

"He made you because he was angry with me," Isabel said.

"He stayed with you out of pity," Maria snarled.

"Pity?"

"You were so weak. I was strong. He felt bad for leaving you. He pitied you."

"No."

"_Si—con sus ojos amarillos y tus_—

"No," Isabel said again—this time more loudly. "He did not pity me. I was meant for him, and he for me. Nor should you think me weak, for I would not stay with a man that would think me _weak_." She spit out the word with distaste. "I would know."

Maria sniffed dismissively.

Isabel repeated herself, with more emphasis. "Like Edward, I would know." She tapped her temple.

Maria's face froze. Edward could see the puzzle pieces falling into place. She had long suspected... _The bitch knew too much—and some of the things Alvarado used to say. But if she could read minds, that would mean—no, no. No._

Maria lunged for Isabel.

Everyone else in the room was a step behind. Even Isabel. Maria slammed into her—catching her under the chin and tossing her like a doll. Isabel flew back, slamming into the large oak desk along the back wall. Wood splintered as Isabel tried to catch herself. A portrait fell. Edward watched, suspended, as an oil lamp teetered on the side of the desk back-and-forth, back-and-forth, before slipping off, hitting the stone floor with a clang. The hot oil burst into larger flames as it ran over loose parchment.

Maria was leaping after Isabel, intent upon her throat, but the rest of them had sprung into action. Peter seemed to improbably tackle two newborns. Charlotte grabbed one from behind while Jasper knocked the largest vampire down. Edward went after Maria.

Maria knew he was coming. She slid left but didn't halt in her dive for Isabel's neck.

Isabel was trying to gain her balance. She managed to kick Maria's hand away—but Maria deflected most of the impact. Isabel shrieked as Maria's teeth tore at her shoulder. The bite had been to her shoulder and not her neck, because Edward had kicked out Maria's feet. Still Maria bent into the impact, spinning with the force of his kick and coming right back at him.

Maria's mind was...

Edward couldn't describe it. Rage would have been easy. Rage was single-minded focus on a task. He'd expected that. He'd expected her to be pure rage. But she wasn't. There was something else in the mix. Grief. It reminded Edward of an animal backed into a corner—crazed, half-mad with the realization that there was nothing left to lose.

Edward missed grabbing her arm by a hair's breadth—and then Maria had sunk her nails into his shoulder blade. She leveraged the spin by grabbing onto his head, and Edward tried to duck—but he didn't have his footing as Maria twisted him.

Behind them, there was a mental shout. Jasper had taken on the largest newborn in the room. There had been a hint of regret as he dispatched him. It was one of the newborns he had trained, and now he was dead.

Jasper charged Maria.

He didn't make it though. One of the older newborns was faking an injury—an injury that was more of a scratch, because as Jasper sprang forward, the newborn snatched out a hand, grabbing Jasper's ankle. Jasper snapped backwards, hitting the floor.

Behind Maria, Isabel had regained her footing. She went for Maria's neck. Her arm was hampering her, and Maria knew. She had Edward in an awkward headlock—but she swung them both, so that Isabel ended up kicking Edward and not Maria. Isabel went sprawling back into the shelves.

Despite the discomfort in his leg, Edward managed to loosen Maria's grasp on him. He was stronger than she was. It was only a matter of keeping his neck as far away from her teeth as possible. But her teeth were getting closer and closer. Edward wasn't an expert in physics, but whatever angle she had on him, she had the leverage. Her teeth were skimming the surface of Edward's skin when Maria was suddenly wrenched away from him.

Millie.

She didn't even kick or punch Maria so much as touch her and then flick her away.

"Thanks," Edward started to say, but Millie didn't say a word to him. Nor did she even bother with another glance at Maria. She ran straight back to where Carlisle rested against the hearth.

Edward's path to Maria was blocked by Charlotte leaping upon her opponent. Edward was startled to see the finesse with which she ripped off the head. He didn't think she'd had any training...

Peter, while not beating the newborn he was fighting, had somehow cornered him into the back of the room near Isabel. She was the one who finished it, decapitating the newborn with an almost dainty slice of her teeth.

When Edward searched the room for Jasper, he saw that he and Charlotte had Maria cornered. Good enough. Edward ran to Carlisle.

Carlisle's head was slumped back, but his eyes were open.

"Edward," he breathed, as Edward bent down before him.

"Carlisle," Edward said.

Millie reached forward to brush Carlisle's hair out of his eyes. The movement was almost tender, if a bit rough. "That nasty Ciro bit him. I hate him. I've always hated him. Maria didn't stop him. She wanted it. She's not supposed to—" Millie's whole face tensed, and then she glared across the room.

"I killed Ciro—or well, Jasper did," Edward said. Not that it was very consoling.

But Millie appeared somewhat consoled. "Good! I hate nasty biters. You shouldn't bite other vampires. Only bite humans!"

Edward did not know what to make of Millie's newfound ideas on vampire pacifism. Across the room, Isabel and Peter had the final newborn cornered, while Charlotte and Jasper were fighting Maria in something of a deadlock. Edward couldn't be sure, but he thought Jasper was trying to get Maria to charge him.

But she wasn't charging, instead she way egging Jasper on. Her dark eyes were fevered and bright, and between gritted teeth, she was repeating, "_Ven, ven, ven—_come, come, come _on,_" in a husky, almost seductive tone.

It was then that Edward realized how well Maria knew Jasper. She knew that he didn't want to be the one to kill her. Jasper might hate Maria—but he still didn't want to kill her. Edward could feel the waves of anxiety collapsing off Jasper. It was so much that all three of them seemed to be shaking.

It didn't help that the oil fire from the desk lamp had spread. Some of the fire had even already overtaken the corpses in the room—the smell and the smoke seemed to choke the room.

Maria caught sight of Edward approaching at the same time that the bookcase behind her started to groan. She grabbed one of the shelves that weren't burning—and she flung the whole fiery wall at Jasper and Charlotte, so that they both had to dive out of the way.

Edward caught the sigmoid curl of her smile through the smoke, and then she was gone, escaping up the tunnel.

"We need to haul ass," Jasper said, yanking his wrist, urging him to the exit.

Edward gave a quick glance back to see that the rest of them—including Millie and Carlisle were ready to follow them out. They headed up the tunnel.

There were impossibly more vampires in the _corona_. Many were newborns, some so fresh that they mindlessly charged like cannonballs through the chamber—bearing down on all in their path, friend and foe alike. You could tell the capital coven by their precision. A charge would come, and the guards would deflect it. They seemed to be moving in perfect synchronization.

Edward saw why: Alvarado. The vampire wasn't far from where Edward stood, but he was several rows behind the frontlines. He was calling orders in Spanish—English—other languages that Edward didn't recognize, but it was easy enough to see what was going on.

In Alvarado's mind, Edward saw that a charge was coming up from the southeast tunnel. Alvarado's hand flipped up—and slashed down in that direction. Immediately, the capital guards in the area pulled back, and a new cauldron of steaming lava was poured down the tunnel front.

Edward heard the screams.

Still though, he shouldn't have been distracted enough not to notice Maria. She didn't exactly slip past him. Rather, she slammed into him, sending him staggering back. She didn't stop though. She ran ahead, bowling through two or more guards with their backs turned, and then she the ball of her foot pushed off a rock—and she was standing directly in front of Alvarado.

Alvarado hesitated. He even held up a hand to make the guards back off. It was his dying mistake.

His eyes were wide as he opened his mouth to say, "Mar—" but he didn't finish. Because Maria dipped her head, almost like she wanted to kiss him, but Edward knew that wasn't what she intended to do at all. Both Edward and Jasper leaped forward at the same time but they couldn't stop it.

Maria ripped his head off.

Jasper had Maria by the shoulders, but then there was another cry—and Edward couldn't help Jasper because he had to worry about Isabel, whose burnt, torn dress seemed to fly up behind her as she came at Maria.

Edward caught her waist, quelled her thrashing arms and held her to his chest.

Jasper was more or less doing the same with Maria.

"Rip her head off," Edward snapped at Jasper, and that comment was enough to cause Isabel to stop for one second.

"First, get his head—we might be able to reattach it. Add a little venom and _wa-la_."

Edward lost his grip on Isabel. The idea had simply never occurred to him. Isabel ran forward, but this time not toward Maria. She ran toward the body of her husband, scooping up the head and pushing it against his broad neck. She held it there with stone fingers.

Maria, pinned as she was in Jasper's arms, was watching them with an empty expression, but then she smiled. "You think it matters? It doesn't. Don't you see that which is happening? The general has fallen—and your coven is going to _lose_."

Edward wanted to snap at her to shut up, but then he caught the change in the chamber. She was right. Around them, the other covens were pressing in. The guards were being pushed back. Edward watched as cauldrons of lava fell untimed, some hitting none and other falling on the capital guards. Without Alvarado, there was no coordination. No general.

"I propose an alternative," Jasper said, "a way to end the bloodshed."

Maria wrenched her head back to look at him. "But we _like_blood."

"I mean this coven war, _sugar snap_."

"And _why_would I agree to that?"

"Because unless you say, 'yes,' both your side and ours is about to be without a 'general.'" Jasper lowered his tone in a somewhat menacing fashion. His eyes pointed at her neck. "And unlike Alvarado over yonder—there ain't going to be anyone around that's going to put humpty dumpty back together again."

"There are two other coven leaders that could—"

"De la Guerra is lava mush, and Samson was dead in the first rush. Don't fuck with me. It's just you. You could pull this. We both know you could," Jasper said.

Maria studied Jasper's face. Edward was half-surprised to find that Jasper was using none of his emotional influence on her. Jasper was appealing to Maria's cold logic. Edward shouldn't have been surprised when her thoughts turned to him—but he was.

She saw Edward in the ring—against her. The rest of her thoughts were hard to distinguish—the details all in ancient language, but Maria wanted to fight him.

That's when Edward realized that she was staring right at him.

"So?" she asked, almost in a bored tone.

"One-on-one?" Edward asked.

"No physical interference from the outside," Maria said, and then her eyes slid to Jasper.

"Wait a minute—" Jasper said, yanking Maria's hair back. He'd finally realized what Maria and Edward were talking about.

"Jasper, I can do this."

"He can do this," Maria repeated back in a mocking tone.

"No—he won't." Jasper looked ready to rip Maria's smirking head off.

"Jasper," Edward repeated. "I can do this." He tried to convey with his eyes the thoughts that were in his head. That he wasn't the overwhelmed kid that had first come to Mexico. That he could fight better now. That he had bested Maria once—and he could best her again.

"I don't want you to," Jasper said, even as his eyes glanced around. The front lines of the guards were being pushed closer to them, losing ground. The cauldrons above had stopped dropping lava flows. If they didn't do something, they would lose. Jasper knew that.

Maria was glancing between the two of them. "I always knew you'd two would end up fucking," she said, and she looked almost pleased by the fact—but not for any of the nice reasons. No. Her mind was foul. She would enjoy it if he died—not just because she wanted to win, but because she wanted to beat Jasper, as well. He had deserted her, and she wanted to make him pay.

Isabel, whose hands were bound about her husband's neck, broke the silence. "Edward will do it. If he says he will, then he will. He'll kill her, and then we'll be done." Her tone brooked no argument.

Jasper looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he gave a long sigh and his shoulders slumped. He looked at Maria through narrowed eyes. "Fine, you get their attention. Call the terms. You, too," he added to Isabel.

Maria jerked away from Jasper. "Care to help?" She raised a high eyebrow at him.

She put two fingers in her mouth, and then she gave two pipes of a loud, ear-splitting whistle. At the same time, Jasper's entire body clenched, and Edward felt the pulse—physical—and enough to make every hair on his body rise. Following with a look of total disgust, Isabel did the same, standing and giving three sharper whistles.

The entire chamber thundered to a halt. Hundreds of red eyes turned in their direction, chests still heaving from the ire of battle, mouths open and ready to bite and kill. Some still held their victims, suspended, ready for the call to end so that they could finish the job.

Maria stepped forward. "Covens of Mexico, we are calling a very, very temporary truce." She smiled as if this was the best news in the entire world.

Hisses and growls erupted at her words, but she patted the air, looking annoyed. The chamber quieted. "We are going to have a little one on one—a…"—she paused to smile again—"_gentlemen's battle. _The winner will be the victor today. The loser will leave—the continent."

Excited whispers and bright eyes followed the announcement. Some of the larger males shifted on their feet, almost as if they expected to fight.

"As your leader—I will fight."

"Edward will fight for us," Isabel said. Her voice, though soft, had the effect of quieting the entire chamber even further.

Edward straightened his spine as every set of eyes in the chamber fixed on him. At his side, Jasper pressed a comforting hand against the small of his back.

"Clear the center of the chamber! No one shall intervene. First to kill wins. The losing covens must leave the continent—forever!" Maria said, striding forward.

Around them, the attacking covens gave a cackling cheer, happy to entertain this new bit of theater. Edward clenched his fists. He flinched when Jasper gave his back a small push—but not before telling him: _she thinks she knows your weaknesses. _

Edward blanched at that, thinking about the setup in the training chamber. Of the three vampires chasing him down.

Jasper continued,_ But she doesn't know your strengths. She doesn't know you. She's obsessed with thinking she's in control—but that's her weakness._

"You're my strength," Edward said.

Jasper kissed him. Full front and center. In front of everyone. In the minds that surrounded them, Edward felt a wash of lust, confusion, some revulsion, and a great deal of curiosity.

Still, Jasper's mind was the one that mattered. Jasper was his strength.

The taste of Jasper was still on his tongue when Maria made the first move. She ran at him—only to back away as he adjusted for the maneuver. On all sides of him, vampires were backing away, bumping shoulder to shoulder as they forgot about who they'd been fighting and focused on the theater before them.

As he regained his footing, Maria laughed, wiggling her finger at him as if Edward was being funny, but then she spun, running along the outer rim of the newly formed circle. She didn't come at Edward though, instead she leaned forward, whispering in Aztec to a vampire Edward had never seen before.

Edward thought about attacking then, but he was surprised to watch as the vampire Maria had spoke to drew of his friends' ears toward him, and he passed on Maria's message.

Maria wanted… _theater._

The vampire that Maria had spoken stomped his foot. It was almost a cracking noise. His two friends joined him. A louder, rumbling bass trembling through the mountain. On the next beat, the vampires behind them joined as well—until almost the entire chamber was stomping their feet or clapping or hissing or humming to the beat.

"What the hell are you doing?" Edward asked her as she neared him.

"Just a little rhythm."

"There isn't supposed to be any interference."

"Any _physical_interference."

The noise was rhythmic—a stomp-stomp-thump-thump. Edward was about to laugh—the rhythm was almost soothing to his mind, but then the first blood cry rang out, followed by another jeering cackle. A screech rang out behind him as Maria came at him again, this time from the right. She tried to punch him in the head, but he slipped around her punch, catching her elbow, and twisting it. Someone screamed in his ear—but it was loudest in his mind.

Maria caught the move in time to turn with the twist, preventing him from really getting a lock on her. She sent a kick flying at his knee—which he parried—but it meant that he had to let go of her arm, and then they were once again face-to-face and circling.

"So," Edward said conversationally, talking over the noise and trying not to let his irritation show, "neither Jasper nor Millie is the spy—by the way."

"Look at you, reporting back. Aren't you so button-cute?" She gave him a flat smile. She smiled as the entire back wall of the chamber yelled and beat their chests in unison.

"Does it upset you?" Edward spoke through clenched teeth.

"Come again?" she said, backing into a crouch.

"That you can't trust anyone? That no one feels they can trust you?" He bobbed his head down to right—she had been about to lunge.

"Trust," Maria began, and Edward almost backed away at the sudden fury that arose within her. "_Trust_is the whimpered hope of stupid fools."

She came at him like a bomb was going off behind her, flying at him with clawing hands and a mouth wide open.

Edward weaved away from her. He ducked away from swipe after swipe. Behind him, he heard Jasper say, _She wants to win—but she doesn't care if she lives._

Edward swung his leg out, kicking her in the stomach. She sailed back, smashing into center rock, the one that Alvarado liked to stand upon to give speeches.

The memory of Alvarado's smiling face, his stupid jokes, and the way he had once smiled made her even angrier. She leaped at Edward again.

But he slid behind her.

The whole chamber was quaking. The stomp—stomp—stomp causing small bits of rock to come rattling down. Shrieks met the larger stones as they fell.

The wave of Maria's hair was cresting—turning back. Edward's brain was a long scream—_do it-do it-do it._

He grabbed her shoulders. Her chin stretching to stop him—but he pressed his teeth down. He tasted stone—venom. He tore. He ripped cold rock from cold rock.

When he looked up there was a black fan flying through the air.

Red irises as an afterthought.

Jasper's arms were around him as the final cries rang out. Jasper was pulling him toward the wall as the mob before him surged in the panic. Jasper was covering his body as darkness seemed to overcome them, as the ceiling above seemed to collapse down up on them.

"We're safe now," Jasper said, and then they were covered in hot dust.


	15. Epilogue

**End & Epilogue**:

(o)(◌)(o)

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end.  
But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.  
—Winston Churchill

(o)(◌)(o)

When the next night rolled over, the whole mountain sat extinguished. Edward searched up and down the slopes, tunneling deep into the caverns. But there was nothing. Not a single fleeting thought. The mountain was silent.

Edward turned and loped down the path, passing through the orange groves. It was the high harvest and while many of the bees, flies, and birds fled at his approach, most were too drunk on their ripe feast to scatter away. Edward ran through the valley, past the ruins of the mill, over the train tracks that lined the lower bluffs. He ran until he reached the pass on the other side, and then there was only a short melee with the thick branches of the wood, and the greenery gave way to the short meadow, and he was back.

Alvarado sat on the front porch, a black scarf wrapped around his neck, a heavy gold chain hanging off to the side.

"_Tranquilo__?_" Alvarado asked, leaning forward against the porch rail.

"As death," Edward answered.

Alvarado gave him a grim smile in reply, before looking away—out in the direction from which Edward had come. "It's better that way. I'm glad none of the coven came back."

"You're sure about that?"

"We love to think we know it all—we see it all. But one can see so far that they fail to see what's close. That's true for all of us."

He was talking about Ines as much as he was talking about Maria. He was doubting himself. Fearing his own weaknesses, Alvarado had set aside his empire-like plans for now. He and Isabel were going to travel. She said Alvarado needed to touch what he could see, seeing it wasn't enough. They were going to visit the southern jungles, meander to the horn of Africa, swim across the sea, sail wherever the tides took them.

Edward nodded. "Are you sure about disbanding the coven, because—"

"I am." Alvarado's tone brooked no argument.

"You're looking better," Edward said, because he could feel the sadness and anger beginning to build in Alvarado's thoughts. Better to distract him.

Alvarado snorted. "For having been force-fed a small pond of water buffalo blood, I'm right as rain." He fiddled with his scarf, straightening out the fringes and looking almost as petulant as Millie. His eyes were noticeably lighter.

They both looked up as Carlisle stepped through the front door. "The best medicine is often sour," Carlisle said.

Alvarado didn't miss a beat. "And advice is often bitter," he said with an acerbic overemphasis.

"But life is so very sweet," Carlisle said.

"Er, enough with the flavors?" Edward said.

"But I was just getting to the delights of _salty_," Alvarado said with a grin.

Edward was about to push past Carlisle into the house, but Carlisle caught his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. _A minute please__?_

Edward shook his head. He'd been avoiding this conversation, mostly because he didn't want to hurt Carlisle, and one fact was clear: he was going to end up hurting Carlisle.

_Please_, Carlisle's thoughts begged.

Edward was about to protest again, when Jasper's thoughts came into his mind. _Get it the fuck over with_, was all that Jasper said. He was upstairs in the library but he had heard the entire exchange. He had been cordial to Carlisle—mostly by avoiding him—but still, he was right.

Edward turned to Carlisle and finally nodded.

As they walked away, Alvarado's thoughts chimed in his head. _There is sweet, there is sour, but don't forget that it's not so cleanly divided. What's creamy like rot can be worse than the lightness of the sharp and bittersweet._

They ended up following a creek that widened before the mountain dipped, after which it fell ladder-like in a series of falls. The soft roar of the falling water was enough to cover the sound of their voices.

Carlisle sat down on the only dry rock in the cove. He crossed his ankles and looked up at the sky. He was struggling with what to say, thoughts mixing like eggs and flour and salt—indecipherable to either himself or Edward.

So Edward waited. Carlisle looked... charming, Edward decided, which is to say that he looked handsome and ancient all at once. He wasn't wearing his usual straight trousers and plain tailored shirt, but instead, Isabel had dressed him, and he was wearing a double-breasted jacket with gold edging and twenty small clasps connecting the front panels. Carlisle leaned forward, and Edward thought he looked like a young king.

"I..." Carlisle began before pausing. "I am sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I should never have brought you here."

Edward stared at Carlisle, seeing the regret in his eyes—the dwindling of hope. If Carlisle'd never brought Edward, they wouldn't have been captured. Edward's eyes wouldn't have turned red. He would never have met Jasper. They could have been happy in the north, away from the insanity of the south.

There was no real way to answer Carlisle, and despite all of it, Edward didn't feel the same regret, so he said, "I'm sorry, too."

_I shouldn't want you_. Carlisle wasn't looking at Edward when he admitted it.

"Was it why you changed me?"

Carlisle's mind froze with the memories: _Edward's smile and his green eyes. A tear sliding down his cheek. Edward's mother squeezing Carlisle's hand, grasping his cool grip like a buoy, pointing at her son, and saying, 'You will save my son.'_

"No and yes," Carlisle said.

"It's fine," Edward said. "It's really fine. I'm not mad at you."

Carlisle stood and walked to Edward. His hand came up, gripping Edward's shoulder.

Edward started to back away.

But Carlisle didn't let go. Instead, he wrapped both of his arms around Edward, pulling him close. He spoke low in Edward's ear. "I know. I may not understand why you want... him." He wouldn't say Jasper's name. "But I know. You don't have to tell me."

Edward relented in his attempt to get away. He let Carlisle hold him. Empty chest to empty chest. Carlisle's cheek a soft weight upon his shoulder. It was, as Edward had said before, fine. Now, they were uncomfortable friends. Someday, though, it would be comfortable. Edward knew that, and it was good to let the grief and insanity wash away in the quiet rumble of the water rushing downstream.

When Edward pulled away, he asked, "What are you doing next?"

"What do you mean?" Carlisle said, not looking at him.

"Where will you go?"

"North. Not here. It will be the same. I'll work in another hospital."

Edward was about to argue with him—Carlisle couldn't keep doing the same thing over and over again; it wasn't making him happy—when a familiar and all too typical presence came up behind them.

Millie was looking displeased, but she was atypically serious as she announced, "I'm coming with you."

"Millie..." Carlisle began.

"No! We never finished my book," Millie said. "And you said we would. You promised, and I promised."

"Millie, I can never repay you for your help, but..."

"But I'm coming with you," she finished for him. "You want to be sullen and grumpy and lonely, but that's really super stupendously stupid. I'm coming, too." She looked thoughtful about it before the idea popped into her head and she exclaimed, "I am going to be a nurse!"

"Um, Millie..." Carlisle groaned, clamping his hand over his eyes.

"Oh wait. No." Millie changed her mind. "That wouldn't work. I don't like needles."

"The blood wouldn't be the biggest problem?" Edward said, trying to smother his amusement.

Millie grinned. "I couldn't work in brothel, either." She curtsied with a wink.

"This won't work," Carlisle said in disbelief.

"We'll have so much fun!" Millie went on. "I'll find you cows or goats or turkeys, and you can stab people, and in the evenings we can go dancing or if people are dumb, and Victorian," she spit out the word with distaste, "we can read the whole library!" She touched her chin to her thumb thoughtfully. "Jasper thought New York had the biggest, but I think that's not true. I think we should go to London."

It was funny, because Millie was prattling on and Carlisle had his hands on his hips, looking exasperated, but inside of Carlisle's head, there was a different set of thoughts taking place. He would enjoy reading with Millie. She'd read _Taming the Shrew _with him yesterday evening, and even though Carlisle had needed to explain every tenth word to her, once she had understood, she had laughed and laughed and laughed. People would probably wonder if she was his niece or worse yet, daughter.

"Millie, we're not going to London. It's almost as bad as the south."

"Isabel says it's nice, but how about the northern parts? Do you speak Viking? I'd like a Viking." Millie's hands were clenched in fists—she was so caught up in her planning.

"It's Norse. Not Viking."

"You can be a berserker!"

"I'm a _doctor_."

"Oh, yeah, big dumb difference. Both doctors and berserkers have knives and kill people."

"Not knives. Scalpels. I wield a scalpel. Do you listen to anything I say?"

Millie considered this with some depth. "I listen most of the time, but sometimes, you sound like a newspaper."

"Newspapers are important," Carlisle said.

"They do have comic strips," Millie allowed.

Edward slipped away. Neither of them noticed.

When Edward and Jasper were alone—really and truly alone—without a mind in the world knowing where they'd wandered, Edward finally relaxed.

They'd found a cabin in the Dakotas, one a few miles off the train track and a good distance from a small town. It was a place where they could go unnoticed. He and Jasper built a patio in the back, ordered some tools, and started constructing their own furniture, making a home from boards they'd split themselves.

By the time winter came, Jasper's eyes had paled to almost gold—the tinge of red was from when he'd slipped up twice. They'd managed to build a large fireplace and a wall of maple book shelves. Edward had dragged in a weepy pine tree and set it up in the middle of the living room, and Jasper had thrown corn kernels into a heavy pot of oil, catching the white puffs as they came out of the pot, stringing them on the spot, so that they had a garland for the tree.

By next Christmas, Peter and Charlotte would come to visit and Edward would have a piano, but for now, the two of them were sprawled on the rug. Jasper had a paper spread out across the floor, and Edward had one arm over his shoulder and the other combing through his hair.

"War's coming to an end," Jasper said, flipping the page.

"It's about time," Edward said.

"Says the boy who wanted to forge his birth date to get in on the action."

"Says the boy who did forge his birth date to get in on the action."

Jasper grinned. "Different times. Didn't need to forge. No one cared if I could read."

"Do you miss it?" Edward asked.

"You're not just asking about the war..."

"You know what I mean," Edward said and lowered his hand, running it down Jasper's side.

"Do I miss living in a shit cave with a manipulative spinster and a pack of animals?" Jasper teased, but then he frowned. "Well, then again, there was no one complaining if I partook of delicious..."

Edward elbowed him. Jasper flicked his arm in return.

"Come here," Edward said, and somehow their twisting ended up with them curled even tighter together, ankles locked and hands tight across Jasper's belly.

"You're an idiot if you think I'd rather be anywhere else," Jasper said.

His tone was warm, his body was cool, and the soft ripples that ebbed and flowed through the air floated like a song as they swept into Edward. Jasper's thoughts were the lyrics, but his talent provided the melody, and Edward wanted to tell him that it was the most beautiful song in the entire world. Instead, he leaned in close, close enough to lick the bottom slope of Jasper's ear, and then he whispered, "I'm happy, too."

The rest, the little details, the I-love-you's and the way Jasper stopped hunting humans without being asked—those were words that needn't be said. The explanations were understood. What was part of the past had been burnt off with the smoke. It was simple: the past had winked out in its own darkness. The morning was Jasper, golden beneath a cloudless sky, as happy as a song.

(o)(◌)(o)

-Fin-

(o)(◌)(o)

* * *

And now I get to mark this crazy story complete. For those of you who hung in there, thank you for your faith in me over the past year and a half (good Lord that was long), and these insane (but rather entertaining) characters. I will miss Millie and this story, but all good things must come to an end.

Thank you's to Sam, Katinki, and ElleCC who helped me so much with this story, fixing my errors, encouraging me, and kicking my butt when I got whiny. And thank you to the readers, the loud and silent alike. The mere fact that you followed along has been fuel to my mad mind.


End file.
